439F 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 


UNI? .  OF  CALIF.  LIBRARY.  LOS  ANGELEJ* 


"In  the  dim  light  oozing  into  the  passage  we  made  out  an  indistinct  figure" 


THE  INTERNATIONAL 
ADVENTURE  LIBRARY 


THREE  OWLS  EDITION 


THE 
DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

An  Adventure  Story 


BY 

FREDERICK  FERDINAND  MOORE 


W.  R.  CALDWELL  &  CO. 
NEW  YORK 


Copyright,  1913,  by 

DOUBLEDAY,  PAGE  &  COMPANY 

All  rights    reserved,   including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian 

COPYRIGHT,  IQI2,  BY  THE  FRANK  A.  MONSEY  COMPANY 


CONTENTS 


I.  Missionary  and  Red-Headed  Beggar 

II.  Red-Headed  Beggar  and  Missionary 

III.  The  Spy  and  the  Dead  Boatswain     . 

IV.  I  Go  Aboard  the  Kut  Sang 

V.  The  Dead  Man  in  the  Passage  . 

VI.  The    Red-Headed    Man  Makes    an 
Accusation         .        .        .        .        . 

VII.  I  Turn  Spy  Myself     .... 

VIII.  Mr.  Harris  Has  a  Few  Ideas 

IX.  A  Fight  in  the  Dark  .... 

X.  The  Devil's  Admiral  .... 

XL  A  Council  of  War       .... 

XII.  The  Battle  on  the  Bridge   . 

XIII.  We  Plan  an  Expedition 

XIV.  The  Pursuit  Ashore    .... 
XV.  Two  Thieves  and  a  Fight  . 

XVI.  The  Gold  and  the  Pirates 

XVII.  The  Art  of  Thirkle     .... 

XVIII.  Big  Stakes  in  a  Big  Game  . 

XIX.  "One  Man   Less   in   the   Forecastle 

Mess" 

XX.  The  Last 


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2131664 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 


CHAPTER  I 

MISSIONARY    AND    RED-HEADED    BEGGAR 

CAPTAIN  RIGGS  had  a  trunk  full  of  old  log 
books,  and  he  said  any  of  them  would  make 
a  better  story  than  the  Kut  Sang.  The 
truth  of  it  was,  he  didn't  want  me  to  write  this 
story.  There  were  things  he  didn't  wish  to  see 
in  type,  perhaps  because  he  feared  to  read  about 
himself  and  what  had  happened  in  the  old  steamer 
in  the  China  Sea. 

"Folks  don't  care  nothing  about  cargo-boats," 
he  would  say,  taking  his  pipe  out  of  his  mouth 
and  shaking  his  head  gravely,  whenever  I  hinted 
that  I  would  like  to  tell  of  our  adventure  of  the 
Kut  Sang.  "They  want  yarns  of  them  floating 
hotels  called  liners,  with  palm-gardens  in  'em  and 
bands  playing  at  their  meals  and  games  and  so  on 
going  from  eight  bells  to  the  bos'n's  watch. 

"It  was  mostly  fighting  in  the  Kut  Sang,  and  the 
mess  you  and  me  and  poor  Harris  and  the  black 
boy  there  got  into  wouldn't  be  just  the  quiet  sort 
of  reading  folks  want  these  days.  It  was  all  over 
in  a  night  and  a  day,  anyway  —  look  at  them 
Northern  Spy  apples,  Mr.  Trenholm!" 


4  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

He  wanted  to  forget  the  Kut  Sang  and  the  awful 
night  we  had  in  her.  He  imagined  he  didn't  figure 
to  advantage  in  the  story,  and  he  winced  when 
I  mentioned  certain  events,  although  I  always  insisted 
that  he  was  the  bravest  man  among  us,  having 
a  better  realization  of  the  odds  against  us.  Those 
who  have  faced  danger  know  it  takes  a  brave  man 
to  admit  that  he  is  beaten,  and  still  keep  up  the 
fight. 

We  all  have  better  memories  for  our  brave  mo 
ments  than  for  the  fear  which  threatened  for  a  time 
to  prove  us  cowards.  The  man  who  has  faced 
death  and  says  he  was  not  afraid  is  either  a  fool 
or  a  liar;  and,  if  only  a  liar,  still  a  fool  for  telling 
himself  that  which  he  knows  to  be  a  lie.  The 
bravery  of  the  seaman  is  that  he  fears  the  sea 
and  knows  its  ruthlessness  and  its  ultimate  victory, 
and  accepts  it  as  a  part  of  his  day's  work.  This 
is  a  sea-story. 

Captain  Riggs  had  log-book  stories  that  were 
good,  and  they  might  have  served  him  for  a  volume 
of  marine  memoirs.  But  I  was  with  him  when 
we  freighted  the  Kut  Sang  with  adventure  and 
sailed  out  of  Manila,  so  his  musty  records  of  rescues 
and  wrecks  lacked  life  for  me.  In  the  old  log 
books  I  found  no  men  to  compare  with  the  Rev. 
Luther  Meeker;  or  Petrak,  the  little  red-headed 
beggar;  or  Long  Jim  or  Buckrow  or  Thirkle.  I 
never  found  in  their  pages  a  cabin-boy  like  Rajah 


MISSIONARY  5 

the  Malay,  strutting  about  with  a  long  kris  stuck 
in  the  folds  of  his  scarlet  sarong,  or  a  mate  whose 
truculence  equalled  the  chronic  ill-humour  of  Harris, 
who  learned  his  seamanship  as  a  fisherman  on  the 
Newfoundland  Banks.  And  in  all  his  log-books 
I  never  found  another  Devil's  Admiral! 

Riggs  is  dead,  and  I  can  tell  the  story  in  my  own 
way;  for  tell  it  I  must,  and  the  manuscript  will 
be  a  comfort  to  me  when  I  am  old  and  my  memory 
and  imagination  begin  to  fail.  Not  that  I  ever 
expect  to  forget,  because  that  would  be  a  calamity; 
but  I  "want  to  put  down  the  events  of  the  day  and 
night  in  the  Kut  Sang  while  they  are  fresh  in  my 
mind. 

How  well  I  can  see  in  a  mental  vision  the  whole 
murderous  plot  worked  out!  Certain  parts  of  it 
flash  on  me  at  off  moments,  while  I  am  reading  a 
book  or  watching  a  play  or  talking  with  a  friend, 
and  every  trivial  detail  comes  out  as  clearly  as  if 
it  were  all  being  done  over  again  in  a  motion  picture. 
The  night  gloom  in  the  hall  brings  back  to  me  the 
'tween-decks  of  the  old  tub  of  a  boat;  the  green- 
plush  seats  of  a  sleeping-car  remind  me  of  the 
Kut  Sang's  dining-saloon,  and  even  a  bonfire  in 
an  adjacent  yard  recalls  the  odour  of  burned  rice 
on  the  galley  fire  left  by  the  panic-stricken  Chinese 
cook. 

I  know  the  very  smell  of  the  Kut  Sang.  I  caught 
it  last  week  passing  a  ship-chandler's  shop,  and  it 


set  my  veins  throbbing  again  with  the  sense  of 
conflict,  and  I  caught  myself  tensing  my  muscles 
for  a  death  grapple.  To  me  the  Kut  Sang  is  a 
personality,  a  sentient  being,  with  her  own  soul 
and  moods  and  temper,  audaciously  tossing  her  bows 
at  the  threatening  seas  rising  to  meet  her.  She  is 
my  sea-ghost,  and  as  much  a  character  to  me  as 
Riggs  or  Thirkle  or  Dago  Red. 

The  deep,  bright  red  band  on  her  funnel  gave 
her  a  touch  of  coquetry,  but  she  had  the  drabness 
of  senility;  she  was  worn  out,  and  working,  when 
she  should  have  gone  to  the  junk  pile  years  before. 
But  her  very  antiquity  charmed  me,  for  her  scars 
and  wrinkles  told  of  hard  service  in  the  China  Sea; 
and  there  was  an  air  of  comfort  about  her,  such  as 
one  finds  in  an  ancient  house  that  has  sheltered 
several  generations. 

Precious  little  comfort  I  had  in  her,  though, 
which  is  why  I  remember  her  so  well,  and  why  I 
never  shall  forget  her.  If  she  had  made  Hong-Kong 
in  five  days,  her  name  would  be  lost  in  the  memory 
of  countless  other  steamers,  and  there  would  be  no 
tale  to  tell.  But  now  she  is  the  Kut  Sang.,  and  every 
time  I  whisper  the  two  words  to  myself  I  live  once 
more  aboard  her. 

Rajah  is  with  me  —  inherited,  I  might  say,  from 
Captain  Riggs.  Perhaps  he  keeps  my  memory 
keen  on  the  old  days,  for  how  could  I  forget  with 
the  black  boy  stalking  about  the  house  —  half  the 


MISSIONARY  7 

time  in  his  bare  feet  and  his  native  costume,  which 
I  rather  encourage  —  for  his  sarong  matches  the 
curtains  of  my  den  and  adds  a  bit  of  colour  to  my 
colourless  surroundings. 

I  am  quite  sure  that  if  Captain  Riggs  were  still 
alive  he  would  agree  that  the  story  should  begin 
with  my  first  sight  of  the  missionary  and  the  little 
red-headed  man,  so  I  will  launch  the  narrative 
with  an  account  of  how  I  first  met  the  Rev.  Luther 
Meeker. 

He  was  in  the  midst  of  a  litter  of  nondescript 
baggage  on  the  Manila  mole  when  I  came  ashore 
from  a  rice-boat  that  had  brought  me  across  the 
China  Sea  from  Saigon.  The  first  glance  marked 
him  as  a  missionary,  for  he  wore  a  huge  crucifix 
cut  out  of  pink  shell,  and  as  he  hobbled  about  on 
the  embankment  it  bobbed  at  the  end  of  a  black 
cord  hung  from  his  neck. 

Quaint  and  queer  he  was,  even  for  the  Orient, 
where  queerness  in  men  and  things  is  commonplace 
and  accepted  as  a  part  of  the  East's  inseparable 
sense  of  mystery.  With  his  big  goggles  of  smoked 
glass  he  reminded  one  of  some  sea-monster,  an 
illusion  dispelled  by  his  battered  pith  helmet  with 
its  faded  sky-blue  pugri  bound  round  its  crown, 
the  frayed  ends  falling  over  his  shoulders  and 
flapping  in  the  breeze. 

He  was  a  thin  old  man,  clad  in  duck,  turning 
yellow  with  age.  When  he  threw  the  helmet 


8  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

back  it  exposed  a  wrinkled  brow  and  a  baldish 
head,  except  for  a  few  wisps  of  hair  at  the  temples. 
He  appeared  to  be  of  great  age  —  a  fossil,  an  ani 
mated  mummy,  a  relic  from  an  ancient  graveyard; 
and  the  stoop  of  his  lean  shoulders  accentuated 
these  impressions.  It  was  plain  that  the  tropics 
were  fast  making  an  end  of  him. 

He  was  whining  querulously  as  I  stepped  ashore, 
and  the  first  words  I  heard  him  say  were: 

"An  organ!  An  organ!  An  organ  in  a  cedarwood 
box!  An  organ  in  a  cedarwood  box,  and  the  sign  of 
the  cross  on  the  ends!  Oh,  why  do  you  try  my 
soul?  Such  stupidity!  Such  awful  stupidity!" 

The  native  porters  were  grinning  at  him  as  they 
simulated  a  frantic  search  for  his  organ  in  a  cedar- 
wood  box,  but  they  probably  knew  all  the  time  where 
it  was.  He  was  surrounded  by  baskets  and  chests; 
and,  if  the  crucifix  were  not  enough  to  indicate  his 
profession,  black  lettering  on  his  possessions  adver 
tised  him  as  "The  Rev.  Luther  Meeker,  London 
Evangelical  Society."  The  multiplicity  of  labels 
proclaimed  him  a  traveller  known  from  Colombo 
to  Vladivostok,  and  he  must  have  been  wandering 
over  Asia  for  years,  as  his  luggage  was  as  ancient 
as  himself. 

Fighting  my  way  out  of  the  multitude  on  the 
river-bank,  I  gained  the  cable  office  near  the  custom 
house  and  reported  myself  in  Manila,  bought  all 
the  newspapers  I  could  to  learn  how  the  war  was 


MISSIONARY  9 

going  in  Manchuria,  and  to  anticipate  if  possible 
where  I  might  be  ordered  next. 

I  revelled  in  the  noise  and  crowds  as  only  one 
can  after  a  week  at  sea.  While  I  was  on  the  way 
from  Saigon  the  Russian  armies  might  have  been 
beaten  or  the  Japanese  fleet  destroyed.  There 
might  be  orders  sending  me  anywhere,  but  I  hoped 
that  I  would  leave  Manila  for  the  Strait  of  Malacca 
to  meet  the  Baltic  fleet.  What  I  feared  most  was 
the  end  of  the  war,  for  a  war-correspondent  without 
a  war  is  deprived  of  his  profession.  I  was  young 
and  ambitious,  then,  and  seeking  a  journalistic  repu 
tation  at  the  cable's  mouth. 

It  happened  that  I  had  allowed  myself  to  heed  the 
glib  tongue  of  a  hotel-runner  before  I  left  the  rice- 
steamer,  and  he  had  commandeered  my  bag  and 
taken  it  to  the  Oriente  Hotel,  of  which  I  knew 
nothing  except  that  it  was  in  the  walled  city 
and  across  the  river  from  the  cable  office.  To 
recapture  the  bag  and  my  clean  linen  I  would 
have  to  take  an  instrument  of  torture  known 
as  a  carromatta  and  drive  across  the  Bridge  of 
Spain. 

I  could  cross  the  river  in  a  small  boat  with  a 
Filipino  pirate,  and  go  on  a  hunt  for  a  conveyance 
on  the  other  side;  but  thought  it  better  to  risk  being 
shaken  to  death  than  drowned  in  the  dirty  Pasig, 
so  I  hailed  a  cochero.  The  villain  demanded  a 
double  rate,  and,  while  we  were  haggling,  a  bus  of  the 


io  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

Oriente  drew  in  sight  and  I  caught  it  as  it  was 
spinning  up  Calle  San  Fernando. 

When  I  crawled  into  the  bus  I  wished  that  I  had 
struck  a  bargain  with  the  thief  of  a  cochero,  for  I 
found  myself  in  a  seat  beside  the  whining  missionary. 
He  prayed  for  his  bones  over  the  rough  places,  and 
for  his  life,  when  the  driver  took  a  corner  recklessly, 
and  made  us  all  very  weary  with  his  eternal  com 
plaining.  That  was  not  the  worst  of  it  —  he  tried 
to  strike  up  an  acquaintance  with  me. 

There  was  a  letter  in  my  coat-pocket  which  had 
been  given  to  me  in  Saigon  to  deliver  to  the  Russian 
consul  in  Manila.  It  was  an  errand  for  the  cable- 
operator  there,  who  had  done  me  favours,  and  I  was 
to  leave  it  at  the  Hong-Kong-Shanghai  Bank  for  the 
consul,  who  would  call  for  it.  That  bank  carried  an 
expense  account  for  me,  so  the  delivery  of  the  letter 
was  of  no  trouble.  The  envelope  was  long  and 
official-looking,  and  it  fell  to  the  floor  of  the  bus  as 
I  clambered  in. 

Meeker  picked  it  up  and  handed  it  to  me,  but 
for  the  instant  he  held  it  he  read  the  address: 

Russian  Consul, 

Care  Hong-Kong-Shanghai  Bank, 

Manila 

Courtesy  Mr.  James  A.  Trenholm, 
Amalgamated  Press 

"My  dear  sir,"  said  Meeker,  "you  have  dropped 
a  document  —  allow  me." 


II 


"Thank  you,"  I  replied,  and  took  the  letter, 
which  was  quite  bulky  and  sealed  with  a  splotch 
of  black  wax  imprinted  with  a  coat  of  arms  or  a 
crest,  or  some  such  insignia.  I  fear  I  betrayed 
my  irritation  over  Meeker's  reading  the  address. 

"No  offence,  I  trust,  my  dear  sir,"  he  said,  mild 
surprise  in  his  tone. 

"None  whatever,"  I  snapped  back;  but  our 
companions  in  the  bus  smiled  and  winked  at  me 
openly,  as  if  they  appreciated  my  cold  manner 
toward  the  missionary. 

He  said  no  more  to  me,  but  remarked  to  no  one 
in  particular  that  "an  austere  manner  is  a  poor 
passport  in  this  country,"  which  implied  that  I 
was  new  to  the  East,  and  would  learn  better  if  I 
stayed  long  enough.  I  ignored  the  remark,  some 
what  pleased  that  I  had  rebuffed  him,  for  I  well 
knew  he  would  talk  me  into  a  fever  if  I  did  not 
keep  him  at  a  distance;  and,  furthermore,  I  did 
not  relish  the  idea  of  having  him  intrude  upon  me 
at  the  hotel.  My  dislike  for  him  was  not  because 
he  was  a  missionary,  but  because  he  was  a  common 
enough  type  of  bore.  He  was  over  suave,  and  his 
peevishness  jarred  my  none  too  steady  nerves. 

The  bus  was  not  a  pleasant  place  for  me  after  that, 
so  I  dropped  off  in  Plaza  Moraga,  when  I  observed 
the  signboard  of  the  very  bank  mentioned.  I 
cashed  a  draft  and  handed  the  letter  to  the  clerk 
at  the  barred  window. 


12  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"Oh,  yes,  we  have  been  waiting  for  that!"  he 
said  as  he  took  the  envelope.  "Mr.  Trego!  Here 
are  your  papers  for  the  consul,"  he  called  to  a  man 
somewhere  behind  the  frosted  glass  wall.  "We 
appreciate  your  kindness  very  much,  Mr.  Tren- 
holm." 

It  was  then  that  I  first  saw  the  little  red-headed 
man.  He  was  looking  in  at  the  door,  but  scurried 
away  when  the  Sikh  guard  inside  moved  toward 
him.  The  little  man  wore  a  white  canvas  navy-cap; 
but  his  appearance  was  dirty  and  disreputable,  and 
he  had  the  aspect  of  a  beggar.  His  visage  was 
wizened  and  villainous  and  shot  with  pock-marks 
under  a  coppery  stubble  of  red  beard,  and  his  little 
mole-like  eyes  were  that  close  together  that  they 
seemed  fastened  to  his  nose. 

The  clerk  kept  me  waiting  for  signatures,  and 
finally  handed  out  my  gold.  As  I  filled  my  purse 
I  was  conscious  of  some  one  behind  me,  and,  glancing 
over  my  shoulder,  I  saw  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker. 


CHAPTER  II 

RED-HEADED    BEGGAR    AND    MISSIONARY 

TURNING  my  back  on  him,  I  edged  toward 
a  desk.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  had  not 
recognized  me  as  the  austere  man  in  the 
bus,  or  perhaps  he  chose  to  pass  without  encounter 
ing  me  again.  He  stared  about  the  place,  leaning 
on  one  leg  for  a  minute  as  if  undecided  what  to  do 
next,  or  not  quite  sure  he  was  in  the  right  estab 
lishment. 

I  could  hear  voices  in  a  room  close  at  hand,  and 
Meeker  turned  toward  the  door,  walking  silently 
in  his  cloth  deck-shoes,  and  passed  into  the  room. 
I  heard  a  man  give  a  cry  of  astonishment,  followed 
by  a  growl  of  wrath,  and  Meeker  ran  out  again, 
retreating  backward  and  holding  his  hands  up  in 
protest. 

"My  dear  sirs!"  he  whined.  "No  offence,  I  am 
sure!  I  hope  you  have  taken  no  offence,  for  none 
was  intended,  and  I  did  not  mean  to  disturb  any 
person  —  I  was  simply  asking  alms  for  a  seamen's 
chapel,  and  I  do  most  sincerely  beg  your  pardons, 
gentlemen." 

He  went  into  the  street,  and  a  sallow-faced  man 

13 


14  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

with  a  slender  malacca  cane  held  in  his  hand  as 
if  it  were  a  rapier,  came  to  the  door  of  the  room 
and  said  something  in  French,  indignant  that  he 
should  be  disturbed.  He  waved  the  cane  menacingly 
after  Meeker  and  slammed  the  door. 

Leaving  the  bank,  I  turned  toward  the  Escolta, 
which  is  the  principal  business  street  of  Manila. 
The  shop  windows  attracted  me,  and  I  sauntered 
for  half  an  hour  or  more.  I  wanted  a  new  field-glass, 
and  as  I  stood  on  the  pavement  at  a  corner  and 
looked  in  at  a  jeweller's  window  I  caught  the  image 
of  Meeker  in  the  glass,  which  was  thrown  in  a 
shadow  by  an  awning. 

I  turned  without  thinking  Meeker  could  have 
any  interest  in  what  I  might  do,  and  saw  him  half 
a  block  away  talking  to  the  little  red-headed  beggar 
who  had  looked  in  at  the  bank  door.  Meeker 
evidently  caught  me  looking  at  him,  for  he  whis 
pered  to  the  beggar,  who  hastened  away,  taking 
a  furtive  glance  at  me  over  his  shoulder  as  he 
left.  I  turned  toward  Meeker,  and  he  swung 
away  down  the  street  as  I  approached  him,  with 
more  nimbleness  than  I  supposed  was  in  his  old 
bones. 

"I  suppose  the  pest  will  be  at  my  heels  for  the 
next  week,"  I  told  myself,  annoyed  at  the  way  the 
missionary  crossed  my  path.  That  was  the  fourth 
time  I  had  seen  him  in  an  hour,  and  I  dreaded  to 
go  to  the  hotel,  sure  I  would  meet  him  again  —  for, 


RED-HEADED  BEGGAR  15 

of  course,  he  could  not  have  gone  anywhere  else 
but  to  the  Oriente. 

I  thought  it  strange  that  he  should  be  talking 
to  the  little  beggar,  although  it  never  occurred  to 
me  that  they  were  watching  me;  and,  even  if  they 
were,  I  would  have  not  concerned  myself  much 
about  it.  As  it  was,  I  ascribed  Meeker's  embarrass 
ment  when  I  last  saw  him  to  what  had  passed 
between  us  in  the  bus,  and  concluded  that  he  was 
trying  to  avoid  me,  which  I  considered  a  praise 
worthy  effort  on  his  part. 

There  was  a  possibility  of  orders  awaiting  me 
at  the  hotel;  and,  although  it  was  not  yet  noon, 
I  hailed  a  rig  and  drove  there.  The  clerk  passed 
over  the  familiar  yellow  envelope,  and  my  message 
read:  "Proceed  to  Hong-Kong  for  orders."  I 
replied  that  I  would  leave  at  once,  and  the  message 
was  gone  before  I  discovered  that  there  wasn't 
a  steamer  for  Hong-Kong  before  the  end  of  the 
week,  five  days  away. 

It  would  have  sounded  silly  to  dispatch  another 
message,  telling  of  lack  of  steamers.  I  had  supposed 
a  steamer  sailed  every  day  or  two,  and  my  temper 
was  ruffled  at  my  mistake  and  the  prospect  of 
fretting  away  a  week  in  the  heat  of  Manila. 

A  little  item  in  the  Times  gave  me  hope.  It  told 
of  the  steamer  Kut  Sang  coming  out  of  dry  dock 
to  sail  for  Hong-Kong  that  very  afternoon  with 
general  cargo.  There  was  a  bare  chance  that  I 


16  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

might  get  passage  in  her,  for  the  paper  referred  to 
her  as  a  former  passenger  boat,  and  I  was  sure  I 
could  cajole  the  company  into  selling  me  a  berth, 
or  bribe  the  captain  into  signing  me  as  a  membei 
of  the  crew,  with  no  duties  to  perform,  a  common 
practice. 

"This  is  Mr.  Trenholm  of  the  Amalgamated 
Press,"  I  told  the  clerk  in  the  steamship  office  over 
the  hotel's  desk-telephone.  "Simply  must  get  to 
Hong-Kong  as  soon  as  possible,  and  would  like 
to  go  in  the  Kut  Sang  this  afternoon.  May  I  buy 
passage  in  her?" 

It  was  hard  to  make  him  understand,  for  he  was 
a  Filipino  who  insisted  on  speaking  English,  although 
I  had  a  working  knowledge  of  Spanish.  He  first 
mistook  me  for  a  stevedore,  then  for  the  manager, 
and  next  for  the  Hong-Kong-Shanghai  Bank.  I 
stormed  at  him,  irritated  that  I  should  have  to 
shout  my  business  for  the  benefit  of  the  loafers  in 
the  hotel  office. 

"Correspondent!"  I  yelled  in  answer  to  his 
questions.  "Newspaper  correspondent  working  on 
the  war.  I  want  to  go  to  Hong-Kong  in  the  Kut 
Sang!" 

"I  am  very  sorry,"  he  said,  without  explaining 
his  sorrow. 

"May  I  go  in  the  Kut  Sang?"  I  insisted,  and  he 
told  me  I  could,  and  after  he  had  talked  in  a  low 
tone  with  somebody  in  his  office,  said  that  I  couldn't, 


RED-HEADED  BEGGAR  17 

which  was  exasperating.  I  decided  to  go  to  the 
steamship  office  and  plead  with  the  officials.  Hang 
ing  up  the  receiver,  I  signalled  to  the  boy  to  call  a 
carriage. 

"You  want  to  go  in  the  Kut  Sang,  my  dear  sir?" 
came  a  purring  voice  at  my  shoulder.  I  looked 
up,  and  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker  smiled  at  me. 

I  growled  something  at  him  to  the  effect  that  I 
wondered  if  I  was  ever  to  lose  sight  of  him.  He 
bowed  again  and  grinned. 

"Sorry  that  you  object  to  me,"  he  murmured. 
with  lifted  eyebrows.  "But  we'll  let  all  that  pass. 
I  might  inform  you  that  it  is  impossible  to  go  in 
the  steamer  Kut  Sang.  You  will  pardon  me,  I  am 
sure,  but  I  heard  what  you  said  at  the  telephone, 
and  I  am  willing  to  annoy  you  to  save  you  time  and 
trouble.  I  repeat,  there  is  absolutely  no  possibility 
of  your  getting  passage  in  the  Kut  Sang." 

"How  do  you  know?"  I  asked,  still  curt  with 
him,  but  feeling  a  trifle  ashamed  of  myself  for  insult 
ing  him. 

"Because  they  have  just  refused  me,  my  dear 
sir  —  allow  me  —  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker  of  the 
London  Evangelical  Society,"  and  he  gave  me  a 
card  which  had  seen  considerable  service. 

"Trenholm  is  my  name.  Sorry  I  haven't  a 
card.  Equally  sorry,  Mr.  Meeker,  that  you  have 
been  refused  passage  in  the  Kut  Sang.  Excuse  me, 
but  I  am  in  a  hurry." 


1 8  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"It  won't  avail  you  anything  to  visit  the  office," 
he  said,  with  sad  mien  and  a  sneer  on  his  lips. 

"And  why  not?" 

"If  they  wouldn't  let  me  go,  a  man  of  the  cloth, 
with  credentials  from  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  your 
case  is  hopeless." 

"Thanks  for  the  compliment,"  I  shot  at  him,  and 
left  him  staring  after  me  with  puzzled  surprise  on 
his  wrinkled  countenance.  He  stepped  to  the  door 
and  saw  me  enter  a  quilez,  and  there  was  a  gleam  of 
anger  in  his  crafty  old  eyes.  The  sunlight  made 
him  blink,  for  he  was  not  wearing  goggles,  and  as  I 
rolled  toward  the  Parian  Gate,  I  looked  back  and 
saw  him  standing  in  the  door  and  shading  his  eyes 
with  his  hand  to  look  after  me. 

Taking  possession  of  a  very  surprised  steamship- 
agent,  I  informed  him  that  I  was  going  to  Hong- 
Kong  in  the  Kut  Sang,  and  I  was  ready  to  argue 
with  him  until  the  vessel  sailed.  A  refusal  was 
out  of  the  question  —  he  didn't  have  time  to  refuse. 
I  spread  all  sorts  of  papers  on  the  counter  and 
threatened  to  bring  all  the  officers  of  the  Hong- 
Kong-Shanghai  Bank  up  there  to  argue  for  me. 

The  talk  about  the  bank  seemed  to  help  me 
wonderfully,  for  he  had  a  whispered  conversation 
with  a  gray-bearded  old  gentleman,  who  looked  me 
over  with  a  shrewd  eye,  and  nodded  his  assent  to 
my  buying  a  ticket. 

"It  won't  be   necessary  for  you   to   sign   ship's 


RED-HEADED  BEGGAR  19 

articles,"  said  the  agent,  turning  affable  all  of  a 
sudden.  "We  have  a  passenger-license  for  the 
Kut  Sang,  although  we  have  withdrawn  her  from 
the  passenger-trade  except  in  cases  of  emergency 
or  delay  of  the  regular  ships.  But  she  hasn't 
been  in  the  passenger-trade  for  nearly  a  year  and 
we  won't  undertake  to  guarantee  the  table  or 
service. 

"You  won't  find  her  equal  to  a  liner,  and  the 
ticket  is  sold  with  the  understanding  that  she  is  a 
cargo-boat,  and  if  you  are  willing  to  take  pot-luck 
with  Captain  Riggs,  that  is  your  affair.  However, 
it  is  understood  that  you  are  not  to  make  unreason 
able  complaints  or  demands  of  the  master." 

My  answer  to  this  was  to  dump  a  handful  of 
gold  coins  on  the  counter  before  he  could  change 
his  mind.  I  told  him  I  was  willing  to  go  to  Hong- 
Kong  in  a  coal-barge. 

"You  will  find  it  lonesome  on  the  passage,"  he 
said. 

"I'll  manage  all  right,"  I  replied,  not  quite  rid 
of  my  asperity  over  their  lack  of  decision  about 
taking  a  passenger. 

"We  have  already  sold  one  ticket,"  continued  the 
clerk,  as  he  put  down  figures  on  a  pad.  He  glanced 
at  me  with  a  quizzical  expression,  and  then  smiled. 

"One  passenger  will  help,"  I  commented,  for 
something  better  to  say. 

"If  he  doesn't  talk  an  arm  off  you  before  you 


20  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

reach  Hong-Kong,  I'll  give  you  the  ticket  for  six 
pence.  He's  a  missionary,"  he  grinned. 

"The  Rev.  Luther  Meeker!"  I  cried  in  horror. 

"The  Rev.  Luther  Meeker!"  he  repeated,  and 
gave  me  my  change  with  a  chuckle. 

Naturally,  I  was  astonished  to  discover  that 
Meeker  was  to  be  a  passenger  with  me  in  the  Kut 
Sang,  but  I  was  out  in  the  street  again  before  it 
dawned  upon  me  that  the  situation  was  more  than 
a  mere  coincidence.  The  missionary  had  lied  to 
me  when  he  said  he  had  been  refused  passage, 
he  had  misled  me  when  he  said  it  was  impossible 
to  buy  a  ticket  in  the  Kut  Sang,  and  I  could  make 
nothing  of  it  all  but  that  he  did  not  want  me  to 
know  he  was  sailing  in  the  vessel,  and  that  he  did 
not  want  me  to  go  in  her. 

The  idea  that  he  would  interfere  with  my  plans 
and  delay  me  for  a  week  simply  because  he  objected 
to  my  presence  in  the  same  steamer  with  him  filled 
me  with  wrath.  I  so  lost  my  temper  for  a  minute 
that  I  was  bent  on  going  back  to  the  hotel  and 
knocking  him  down,  missionary  or  no  missionary; 
but,  instead,  came  to  the  conclusion  that  the  joke 
was  on  him,  and  I  would  have  plenty  of  oppor 
tunities  to  retaliate  upon  him  between  Manila  and 
Hong-Kong. 

Before  I  got  into  my  quilez  my  ire  was  roused 
again  at  the  sight  of  the  red-headed  beggar  lounging 
in  a  doorway  across  the  street,  obviously  watching 


RED-HEADED  BEGGAR  21 

me.  It  was  plain  enough  that  Meeker  had  sent 
him  to  spy  upon  me  and  learn  if  I  went  to  the  steam 
ship  office.  The  little  beggar  saw  me  looking  at 
him  and  dodged  into  a  doorway,  but  fled  when  he 
saw  me  start  after  him. 

In  the  quilez  I  laughed  at  myself  for  allowing  a 
prying  old  man  like  Meeker  to  upset  my  temper, 
and,  as  I  rode  back  to  the  hotel,  put  the  both  of 
them  out  of  my  mind;  but  promised  myself  that 
I  would  take  my  revenge  on  the  old  pest  in  some 
way  aboard  the  steamer. 

My  bag  was  packed  again,  and  I  was  ready  for 
tiffin  and  then  an  afternoon  nap,  to  be  called  in  time 
to  catch  the  steamer.  My  telephone  rang,  and  I 
hastened  to  answer  it,  expecting  orders  from  the 
cable-office,  and  hoping  that  London  had  decided, 
after  all,  to  send  me  after  the  Baltic  fleet  to  the 
south,  rather  than  to  Hong-Kong. 

"Is  this  Mr.  Trenholm?  This  is  the  steamship 
office,  Mr.  Trenholm.  We  wish  to  inform  you 
that  the  Kut  Sang  has  been  delayed  until  to-morrow 
morning  for  cargo  which  did  not  get  in  to-day. 
Sails  to-morrow  sure." 

It  made  little  difference  to  me,  and  I  would  be 
glad  to  have  a  night's  sleep  ashore  after  the  rice- 
steamer.  However,  it  would  be  wise  to  have  the 
exact  sailing-time  of  the  Kut  Sang,  so  I  ran**  up  the 
steamship  office  and  asked,  not  wishing  to  run  the  risk 
of  getting  to  the  mole  and  finding  the  steamer  gone. 


22  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"She  sails  this  afternoon  at  five,  as  noted  on  the 
board,"  was  the  startling  response  to  my  query.  I 
was  so  taken  aback  for  a  second  that  I  didn't  know 
what  to  think  or  say.  I  remarked  into  the  telephone 
that  somebody  in  the  steamship  office  must  take  me 
for  a  fool,  and  that  I  did  not  consider  such  things 
jokes. 

No,  they  had  not  telephoned  me  the  sailing  was 
delayed;  couldn't  say  who  had;  certainly  no  one  in 
the  steamship  office  could  think  of  doing  such  a  thing, 
which  sounded  reasonable  enough;  knew  nothing 
whatever  about  a  delay,  and  were  quite  perturbed 
to  hear  I  had  been  told  there  was;  had  no  idea  how  it 
happened,  but  there  was  no  doubt  the  Kut  Sang 
would  sail  on  schedule  time,  for  the  stevedore  was 
there  in  the  office  at  that  minute  getting  lading-slips 
signed,  and  he  knew  of  no  delay. 

"Meeker's  little  joke  is  going  too  far,"  I  decided, 
after  I  had  hung  up  the  receiver.  "  I  think  there  are 
a  few  words  I  can  say  to  him  that  will  convince  him  I 
am  not  to  be  trifled  with  in  this  manner." 

Seizing  my  cap,  I  pulled  the  door  open  abruptly 
and  almost  fell  over  the  little  red-headed  beggar 
lurking  near  my  room.  He  darted  down  the  stair 
way,  and  I  leaped  after  him. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE    SPY   AND    THE    DEAD    BOATSWAIN 

THREE  steps  at  a  time  I  took  the  matted 
stairway,  which  was  reckless  speed,  for  the 
shell-paned   windows   were   shut,  and   the 
awnings  pulled  down  to  keep  out  the  heat  of  the 
blinding   sun,   making   it   quite   dark.     But   I   was 
bound  to  capture  the  little  red-headed  man,  thrash 
him  soundly,  make  him  tell  his  motive  in  trailing  me, 
and  turn  him  over  to  the  police. 

I  caught  the  indistinct  figure  of  a  man  in  white 
coming  up,  and  threw  myself  to  one  side  to  avoid 
him,  but  he  stumbled  in  front  of  me,  and  we  went 
sprawling  into  the  corridor  below.  It  was  a  nasty 
spill,  and  I  shot  out  on  the  matting  at  full  length  with 
my  hands  thrown  before  me.  The  polished  teak- 
wood  floor  and  the  loose  matting  saved  me  from 
injury. 

"My  dear  sir!"  exclaimed  the  man  who  fell  with 
me,  and  I  found  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker  sitting  on  a 
crumpled  mat  and  propped  up  with  his  arms  behind 
him,  while  his  pith  helmet  went  dancing  away  on  its 
rim  to  settle  crazily  upon  its  crown  a  dozen  feet 
from  us. 

23 


24  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

For  an  instant  I  was  tempted  to  attack  him, 
when  I  realized  that  his  presence  on  the  stairs 
and  his  interruption  of  my  pursuit  of  the  red 
headed  man  were  significant  of  more  than  an  ac 
cident,  and  that  Meeker  and  the  other  were  spying 
upon  me.  I  bridled  my  ire,  and  decided  to  play  the 
game  out  with  them  and  fathom  the  mystery  of 
their  espionage. 

"My  dear  sir,  I  am  almost  certain  that  I  have 
sprained  my  back  —  I  am  sure  I  have  injured  my 
back!" 

"I  am  sorry  for  your  back,"  I  said,  getting  to  my 
feet.  "For  my  part,  I  am  satisfied  to  escape  without 
a  broken  neck." 

"My  immortal  soul,  if  it  isn't  Mr.  Trenholm!" 
said  he,  blinking  at  me,  his  goggles  bobbing  on  a 
rubber  string  made  fast  to  a  jacket-button.  "Of 
all  persons,  Mr.  Trenholm!  Bless  my  soul!" 

My  mental  remark  was  somewhat  similar  and  with 
equal  fervour,  if  not  complimentary  to  him  and  his 
soul.  Brushing  my  soiled  ducks,  I  started  to  move 
away,  for  it  would  never  do  to  assume  an  excess  of 
friendship  too  suddenly. 

"Just  one  moment,  Mr.  Trenholm-  "  he  called 
after  me,  shaking  a  bony  forefinger  —  "just  one 
moment,  I  beg  of  you,  sir!  I  have  some  information 
which  I  desire  to  impart,  and,  strangely  enough,  I 
was  seeking  you  when  this  unfortunate  tumble  came 
about,  partly  through  my  infirmities,  I  am  sure. 


THE  DEAD  BOATSWAIN  25 

One  moment,  sir.     It  is  to  your  advantage  to  wait,  I 
assure  you." 

"What  is  it?"  I  asked,  hesitating.  The  little 
beggar  had  undoubtedly  escaped,  and  I  knew  that  in 
Meeker  I  had  bigger  game  if  I  handled  him  cau 
tiously. 

"The  Kut  Sang!"  he  said,  arising  with  difficulty 
and  holding  his  back  with  one  hand  while  he  hobbled 
after  his  helmet. 

I  was  convinced  that  his  injury  and  decrepit  bearing 
were  clever  bits  of  acting. 

"I  desire  to  correct  you  regarding  the  Kut  Sang" 
he  cackled,  caressing  the  recovered  helmet. 

"What  about  it?  My  dear  Mr.  Meeker,  I  am  in 
a  hurry  and  cannot  waste  the  day  waiting  for  you  to 
talk.  I  am  sorry  for  what  has  happened  here,  but  I 
trust  that  you  are  not  incapacitated.  Anyway,  I 
do  not  think  there  is  anything  you  can  tell  me  about 
the  Kut  Sang  that  I  do  not  already  know." 

"Oh,  but  there  is,"  he  protested,  holding  up  his 
hand  and  eying  me  craftily.  "I  was  seeking  you  to 
tell  you  when  we  fell  upon  each  other  so  uncere 
moniously.  It  is  quite " 

"I  suppose  you  want  to  tell  me  that  the  sailing 
has  been  delayed.  I  know  all  about  that  —  she 
sails  in  the  morning." 

"Sails  in  the  morning!"  he  exclaimed,   pretending 
surprise,    but    being    puzzled    about     something. 
"Does  she?' 


26  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

There  was  guile  in  that  last  question,  and  when  he 
asked  it  I  knew  it  was  he  or  some  one  acting  for  him 
who  had  attempted  to  mislead  me  about  the  time  of 
the  vessel's  departure.  I  saw  a  chance  to  trap  him, 
and  asked: 

"Was  that  what  you  wanted  to  tell  me?" 

He  parried  it,  and  while  he  fumbled  in  his  pockets 
for  something,  a  trick  to  gain  time,  he  was  thinking 
hard  and  fast. 

I  had  him  against  the  ropes,  so  to  speak,  and  he 
knew  it,  for  what  he  did  want  to  find  out  was  whether 
I  knew  the  telephone  message  to  be  fraudulent.  If 
I  did,  he  wanted  to  take  credit  for  setting  me  right; 
and  if  I  didn't,  he  wanted  me  to  miss  the  Kut  Sang. 
So,  knowing  his  game,  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that 
I  must  not  press  him  too  hard  and  so  make  him  sus 
picious  that  I  knew  his  true  character  —  his  charac 
ter,  that  is,  as  a  decidedly  suspicious  person. 

"I  was  told  that  she  sails  in  the  morning,  but  it  was 
some  mistake,"  I  told  him,  as  if  I  had  not  found  any 
thing  peculiar  in  the  error  and  was  not  the  least  dis 
turbed  about  it. 

"Oh,  no!  Nothing  in  that!"  he  cried,  unable  to 
conceal  his  delight  over  my  admission  of  how  much 
I  knew.  "For  a  minute  I  thought  there  might  be 
something  in  the  story,  after  all,  when  I  heard  you 
say  she  was  delayed.  That  is  just  what  I  was  going 
to  tell  you  —  there  is  no  truth  in  that  report.  Some 
person,  who  I  cannot  say,  also  gave  me  misinforma- 


THE  DEAD  BOATSWAIN  27 

tion  regarding  the  Kut  Sang.  I  feared  that  you  might 
have  had  the  same  experience.  That,  however,  is 
only  a  part  of  it  —  what  I  want  to  tell  you  is 
that  it  is  now  possible  to  buy  a  ticket  in  the  Kut 
Sang." 

"I  already  have  my  ticket,"  I  said.  "So  we  will 
be  fellow-passengers,  and  I  hope  you  will  pardon  my 
throwing  you  down  the  stairs;  but  I  was  running 
after  a  beggar  or  a  thief." 

"Indeed!  Do  you  know  the  rascal,  or  did  you  see 
him  so  that  you  can  give  a  comprehensive  descrip 
tion  of  him  to  the  police?" 

"A  little  red-headed  man,'''  I  said,  watching  him 
closely.  "Did  you  see  him  before  you  started  up 
the  stairs?" 

He  burst  out  in  a  dry,  mirthless  cackle  of  laughter, 
and  slapped  his  knees,  much  as  if  he  had  heard  a  good 
joke. 

"If  you  will  come  in  to  tiffin  with  me,  Mr.  Tren- 
holm,  I  will  tell  you  about  him." 

Assuming  affability,  I  accepted  his  invitation, 
and  we  went  into  the  dining-room  together  and  found 
a  table  to  ourselves  in  the  corner.  I  was  rather 
pleased  at  having  an  opportunity  to  study  him, 
especially  at  his  own  suggestion,  and  I  made  up  my 
mind  that  before  the  lunch  was  over  I  would  have 
solved  the  mystery  of  who  or  what  the  missionary 
was,  and  why  he  had  the  little  red-headed  man  at 
my  heels  since  I  had  arrived  in  Manila  that  morning, 


28  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

and  why  he  had  attempted  to  keep  me  out  of  the 
Kut  Sang. 

"And  who  is  this  little  red-headed  man?"  I  asked 
as  we  took  our  chairs. 

He  bowed  his  head  and  mumbled  a  grace  before 
replying,  and  I  had  a  sense  of  mental  conflict  between 
us,  and  knew  that  I  would  have  to  guard  against 
chicane,  or  the  suave  old  fellow  would  talk  me  out 
of  my  suspicions. 

"It  must  have  been  Dago  Red  you  saw,"  he  began, 
grinning,  and  wagging  his  head.  "  I  hope  he  did  not 
actually  steal  anything,  my  dear  Mr.  Trenholm.  I 
am  quite  sure  you  must  be  mistaken  about  his  being 
a  thief;  but  it  is  quite  possible,  he  has  deceived  me." 

"I  found  him  sneaking  near  my  door  in  the  hall," 
I  said.  "Who  is  this  Dago  Red?" 

"A  worthy  man,"  he  replied  getting  serious.  "I 
am  afraid  you  have  done  him  an  injustice,  for  I  sent 
him  up  to  see  if  you  were  in  your  room,  and  after  I 
had  given  him  the  errand  the  clerk  informed  me  that 
you  were  in,  and  I  started  up  myself." 

"He  didn't  appear  anxious  to  talk  with  me  when 
he  saw  me  open  the  door." 

"  You  probably  startled  him  by  — • — 

"But  who  is  he?" 

"Petrak,  I  think  his  name  is,  although  I  am  not 
sure,  and  my  poor  old  memory  cannot  hold  names 
long.  He  is  a  sailor  who  has  been  shipwrecked,  and 
he  became  a  vagrant  here  and  was  sent  to  Bilibid 


THE  DEAD  BOATSWAIN  29 

Prison.  Much  of  my  work  is  in  prisons,  and  I  took 
charge  of  him  when  he  got  out  and  sent  him  to  the 
Sailors'  Home,  sure  that  he  would  be  able  to  get  a 
ship  again.  That  was  a  couple  of  months  ago,  and 
when  I  arrived  to-day  he  met  me  and  told  me  that 
he  had  left  the  Home  because  the  keeper  was  preju 
diced  against  him,  owing  to  his  term  in  prison. 

"He  was  on  the  verge  of  starvation,  and  I  gave 
him  some  money  from  my  charity  fund,  which  he 
promptly  spent  on  drink,  for  he  is  quite  dissolute. 
But  he  took  charge  of  my  luggage  and  attended  to 
some  errands  for  me,  but  he  fears  the  police  and  can 
not  get  out  of  his  habit  of  skulking  about,  and,  as  the 
detectives  have  hounded  him,  he  is  suspicious  of  every 
body,  and  ready  to  go  into  a  panic  when  a  stranger 
approaches  him.  It  is  a  pity  that  he  cannot  get 
back  to  sea,  but  he  has  had  the  fever,  and  no  master 
seems  to  want  him,  and  he  has  been  forced  into  vaga 
bondage." 

He  gave  me  this  history  of  the  little  red-headed 
man  in  disconnected  sentences  while  we  were  at  the 
soup,  and  I  let  him  run  on.  As  he  talked  his  eyes 
were  roaming  over  the  room,  and  he  scanned  every 
person  that  entered,  and  peered  at  me  from  under  his 
brows  when  he  thought  I  was  not  observing  him. 

It  was  plausible  enough,  but  I  could  not  forget 
that  Meeker  and  the  little  sailor  were  together  a 
great  deal,  and  whenever  I  had  seen  them  they  were 
acting  suspiciously,  and  both  of  them  had  kept  close 


30  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

watch  upon  me.  Neither  had  he  explained  away 
the  fact  that  he  had  told  me  I  could  not  buy  a  ticket 
in  the  Kut  Sang,  which  I  did;  nor  the  fact  that  he  had 
his  own  ticket  when  he  told  me  that,  nor  the  false 
telephone  message  for  the  obvious  purpose  of  making 
me  miss  the  steamer,  and  then  his  getting  in  my  way 
when  I  was  in  pursuit  of  Petrak,  or  "Dago  Red,"  as 
he  called  him. 

It  seemed  beyond  reason  that  this  chain  of  events 
could  be  nothing  but  a  combination  of  coincidences, 
and,  when  I  analyzed  the  situation,  I  framed  what  I 
considered  a  good  theory  regarding  Petrak's  pres 
ence  outside  my  door.  It  occurred  to  me  that 
Meeker  was  the  author  of  the  false  message,  and  that 
he  was  really  on  his  way  to  visit  me  to  learn  if  I  had 
discovered  the  falsity  of  it  when  he  met  me  rushing 
down  the  stairs.  But  he  had  sent  Petrak  ahead  of  him 
to  listen  at  the  door  in  case  I  telephoned  the  com 
pany  to  verify  the  first  message;  Petrak  had  heard 
me  ask  the  company  for  the  sailing  time  and  was 
about  to  report  to  Meeker  when  I  opened  the  door 
upon  him. 

Meeker  was  probably  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and 
covered  the  retreat  of  his  henchman.  Petrak  may 
not  have  been  able  to  stop  and  report  what  he  had 
heard,  so  Meeker  fished  for  the  information  from 
me,  ready  to  confirm  the  report  that  the  sailing  of  the 
vessel  was  delayed,  or  pretend  that  he  was  about  to 
set  me  right. 


THE  DEAD  BOATSWAIN  31 

Upon  my  admission  that  I  knew  the  report  was 
false,  he  grasped  at  the  latter  alternative,  and,  seeing 
that  it  was  impossible  to  prevent  me  going  in  the 
Kut  Sang,  determined  to  make  friends  with  me  and 
disarm  whatever  suspicions  I  might  have  regarding 
him.  It  seemed  a  tenable  theory,  but  I  could  not 
account  for  all  this  bother  on  his  part  because  James 
Augustus  Trenholm,  of  the  Amalgamated  Press, 
took  passage  in  the  Kut  Sang. 

It  seemed  absurd  to  me  that  Meek  r  or  anybody 
else  would  be  concerned  because  I  was  leaving 
Manila  for  Hong-Kong.  It  was  plain  enough  that 
he,  or  somebody,  had  done  their  best  to  keep  me  from 
sailing  in  the  Kut  Sang.  That  it  was  the  Rev. 
Luther  Meeker  there  could  be  little  doubt,  but  the 
mystery  lay  in  what  his  motives  could  be,  or  who  he 
was  acting  for,  and  it  was  beyond  me  to  say  why 
there  should  be  any  objection  to  my  sailing  in  the 
steamer  Kut  Sang  that  afternoon. 

While  I  was  thinking  these  things  over  he  was 
keeping  up  a  running  conversation  about  trivial 
matters,  and  we  were  well  into  the  curried  lamb 
and  getting  along  famously  when  he  asked  a 
question  which  put  me  on  my  guard  at  once, 
and  set  me  groping  mentally  for  a  solution  of  the 
puzzle. 

"Did  you  deliver  your  letter?"  he  asked,  casually, 
but  I  saw  in  an  instant  that  he  had  been  paving  the 
conversational  way  all  along  for  that  very  question. 


32  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"What  letter?"  I  asked,  although  I  knew  the  one 
he  meant. 

He  looked  at  me  craftily,  with  what  I  took  for  a 
bit  of  surprise  that  I  did  not  know  the  letter  he 
referred  to,  or  that  he  expected  me  to  deceive  him. 

"Perhaps  I  shouldn't  mention  it,  for  it  may  recall 
our  little  unpleasantness  this  morning,"  he  sent 
back.  "Perhaps  it  was  my  fault,  my  dear  sir,  in 
sp  caking  to  you  when  I  picked  it  up,  and  I  certainly 
want  to  assure  you  that  I  was  not  put  out  by  your 
disinclination  to  begin  an  acquaintance  with  a 
stranger." 

"Haven't  the  slightest  idea  of  what  you  are  talking 
about,"  I  said  lightly,  and  professing  ignorance  in  my 
puzzled  expression. 

"The  letter  you  dropped  in  the  bus."  He  fairly 
hurled  the  sentence  at  me,  although  his  voice  was  low 
and  he  was  pretending  to  have  trouble  with  the 
saltcellar. 

"Oh!  To  be  sure,  the  letter  I  dropped  in  the  bus, 
and  which  you  so  kindly  picked  up  for  me.  I  have 
an  idea  that  I  was  rather  gruff  at  the  time,  and  not 
at  all  inclined  to  appreciate  the  service  you  per 
formed.  I  might  have  lost  it  entirely  but  for  you, 
so  I'll  thank  you  now,  with  an  apology." 

"Don't  mention  it  —  don't  mention  it,  I  assure 
you.  I  trust  you  delivered  it  safely." 

He  had  given  me  the  key  to  the  mystery.  The 
letter  for  the  Russian  consul  was  the  cause  of 


THE  DEAD  BOATSWAIN  33 

Meeker's  attentions  to  me!  And,  instead  of  being  a 
newspaper  correspondent,  to  Meeker  I  was  a  Rus 
sian  agent,  probably  a  spy!  It  was  all  I  could  do 
to  restrain  myself  from  laughing  in  his  face. 

"Delivered  it  safely,"  I  repeated  inanely.  "It 
was  only  an  errand  for  a  friend  of  mine,  and  I  left  it 
at  the " 

He  waited  for  me  to  finish  the  sentence.  He  for 
got  himself  and  failed  to  conceal  his  assumed  non 
chalance  regarding  the  letter,  for,  as  I  cut  off  what 
I  was  saying,  he  held  his  fork  poised  over  his  lamb, 
so  intent  was  he  on  learning  where  I  had  delivered  the 
letter  for  the  Russian  consul. 

I  seized  a  glass  of  water  and  struggled  with  an 
imaginary  obstruction  in  my  throat,  and  mentally 
cursing  my  stupidity  in  telling  my  friend's  private 
business  to  a  stranger  who  had  already  betrayed  an 
inordinate  interest  in  the  letter. 

"Where  did  you  leave  it?"  purred  Meeker. 

"At  the  post-office,"  I  finished,  amazed  at  his 
boldness  in  pursuing  the  destination  of  the  letter, 
and  having  no  qualms  of  conscience  about  telling 
him  a  falsehood.  I  did  not  regard  it  as  any  of  his 
affair  where  I  had  delivered  the  letter,  and  did  not 
intend  to  inform  him  I  had  left  the  bulky  envelope 
at  the  Hong-Kong-Shanghai  Bank. 

The  image  of  the  bank-front  which  crossed  my 
mind  gave  me  another  clue  to  Meeker's  solicitude 
about  me  and  the  letter.  I  remembered  seeing 


34  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

a  sign  over  the  teller's  window,  which  stated  that 
the  bank  was  a  branch  of  a  Russian  financial  house. 
What  could  be  more  natural  for  a  Russian  spy  than 
to  cash  his  drafts  in  a  place  which  dealt  with  Vladi 
vostok  and  Port  Arthur,  or  even  St.  Petersburg  and 
Moscow  ? 

And,  if  he  took  me  for  a  spy  in  the  Russian  ser 
vice,  it  followed  that  he  must  be  watching  me  for  the 
Japanese,  and  it  was  probable  that  the  cable-agent 
in  Saigon  was  in  the  service  of  the  Czar  and  found  it 
convenient  to  deliver  an  important  document  with 
my  assistance. 

At  that  time  Manila  was  the  headquarters  for 
blockade-runners  bound  for  Port  Arthur,  and  Rus 
sian  and  Japanese  spies,  from  coolies  to  bankers, 
were  watching  every  ship  and  every  stranger.  So 
it  was  not  strange  that  I,  coming  from  French  Indo- 
China,  with  a  dispatch  for  the  Russian  consul,  should 
be  mistaken  for  a  spy  by  Meeker  the  instant  he  read 
the  address  on  the  envelope  and  saw  the  wax  seals. 

I  had  a  mind  to  tell  the  old  fellow  the  joke  on  him, 
but  that  would  require  explaining  where  the  letter 
to  the  consul  came  from,  which  would  hardly  be 
playing  fair  with  my  friend  in  Saigon.  If  he  knew 
the  truth  he  might  abandon  his  trip  to  Hong-Kong 
in  the  Kut  Sang,  and  I  would  be  rid  of  him,  for  I 
knew  he  was  going  with  me  in  the  steamer  for  the 
purpose  of  attempting  to  learn  what  my  business 
would  be  in  the  British  port. 


THE  DEAD  BOATSWAIN  35 

If  I  was  to  remain  in  Manila  I  would  have  dis 
illusioned  him,  and  so  put  a  stop  to  his  trailing  me 
about,  but,  as  I  was  leaving  in  a  few  hours,  I  antici 
pated  but  little  more  trouble  from  him  or  the  red 
headed  man.  Besides,  I  saw  an  opportunity  to 
make  game  of  him  by  telling  him  his  mistake  after 
we  were  well  to  sea  and  leading  him  on  a  fool's 
voyage. 

"I  am  sure  that  we  will  have  a  pleasant  passage  in 
the  Kut  Sang,"  he  said.  "I  am  something  of  a 
literary  man  myself,  Mr.  Trenholm  —  an  exhaustive 
life  of  the  saints,  a  shilling  in  paper  covers,  four  shil 
lings  in  cloth,  with  gilt  title  and  frontispiece  of  me. 
It  is  recommended  by  the  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  and 
in  its  class  quite  a  standard  work. 

"Then  I  did  some  poems,  chiefly  on  sacred  sub 
jects.  Not  much  as  poetry,  perhaps,  judged  by 
severe  standards,  but  I  am  told  they  are  regarded  as 
marvels  of  piety  and  sweetness.  I  may  have  a  copy 
in  my  luggage,  which  I  will  show  you  after  we  are 
settled  aboard  the  steamer." 

I  let  him  ramble  on  like  that,  turning  over  in  my 
mind  the  while  all  the  schemes  I  intended  to  put  into 
play  to  convince  him  I  was  really  a  spy,  and  when 
a  boy  brought  a  paper  I  fell  upon  the  war  news. 

"Another  Russian  defeat,"  I  half  moaned,  and  made 
out  that  I  was  dreadfully  upset  because  the  Japanese 
were  winning  battles. 

He  said  he  deplored  war,  and   had    a    prejudice 


36  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

against  the  Japanese,  and  hoped  they  would  lose, 
and  praised  the  Russians  as  brave  and  pious.  When 
I  expressed  satisfaction  at  his  views  in  order  to  prove 
my  character  as  a  Russian  agent,  we  might  have  been 
mistaken  by  an  observer  for  a  couple  of  old  friends. 

He  wearied  me,  however,  with  his  chatter  and 
efforts  to  make  himself  agreeable,  and  after  the  meal 
I  escaped  from  him  on  the  plea  of  business  which 
must  be  attended  to  before  the  steamer  sailed. 

Leaving  the  walled  city,  I  crossed  the  Bridge  of 
Spain  to  the  Escolta  and  took  a  stroll  in  Calle  Ros- 
ario,  where  the  Chinese  merchants  keep  themselves 
in  grateful  shade  with  miles  of  awning.  After  an 
hour  of  sight-seeing,  I  found  myself  in  a  square  near 
the  San  Miguel  Bridge. 

There  was  a  crowd  gathered  before  a  building, 
which  I  remember  on  account  of  the  picture  of  a 
frigate  painted  upon  the  stucco  wall  and  the  great 
red  letters  spelling  out: 

THE    FLAGSHIP    BAR 

There  had  evidently  been  a  fight;  and  coolies  and 
natives,  and  Europeans  in  white,  clustered  at  the 
door.  I  joined  the  knot  of  people  and  pressed  for 
ward  to  see  what  was  holding  their  attention,  and 
saw  the  body  of  a  big,  foreign-looking  man,  half  in 
side  the  door  and  half  on  the  pavement,  with  his 
head  outside. 


THE  DEAD  BOATSWAIN  37 

His  mouth  was  open,  and  from  his  upper  lips 
drooped  long,  black  moustaches,  looking  all  the 
blacker  for  the  ghastly  pallor  of  his  cheeks.  He  had 
been  stabbed  in  the  back,  and  the  spectators  in  the 
front  of  the  group  edged  away  to  avoid  the  growing 
pool  of  blood  on  the  sidewalk. 

"Does  anybody  know  who  he  is?"  demanded  a 
khaki-clad  policeman,  taking  out  a  note-book. 

"A  sailor,"  said  an  American  in  a  white  apron, 
who  leaned  out  of  the  door.  "Drank  whiskey  and 
vermouth  and  talked  like  a  squarehead." 

"Greek  he  was,"  said  a  man  with  the  appearance 
of  a  mariner. 

"Here's  his  cap  in  here,"  said  the  bartender,  and 
he  turned  and  picked  up  a  watch-cap,  and  held  it  so 
we  could  see  letters  wrought  in  it  with  gilt  cord,  and 
I  made  out  "Kut  Sang,"  which  excited  my  interest 
in  the  case. 

"Boatswain  he  was  in  the  Kut  Sangy  bound  out 
to-day  for  Hong-Kong,"  said  the  mariner. 

"Jolly  long  road  to  Hong-Kong  for  him  now,"  said 
another. 

"Who  cut  him?"  demanded  the  policeman. 
"Didn't  you  see  how  this  happened?  Are  you  all 
deaf  and  dumb?  You,  there  in  the  apron!  Who 
did  this?" 

"You  can  search  me,"  said  the  bartender.  "He 
had  a  couple  of  drinks  and  was  going  out  when  some 
body  slipped  a  knife  in  him.  I  was  at  the  other  end 


38  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

of  the  bar  —  never  saw  a  thing  until  this  one  here 
lets  out  a  yell  and  goes  down.  Somebody  cut  and 
run  through  the  door." 

"I  see  him!  I  see  him!"  cried  a  boy  in  kilts  who 
had  a  hoop,  and  we  all  turned,  expecting  the  mur 
derer  to  be  pointed  out  to  us;  but  the  boy  meant  that 
he  had  seen  the  man  running  away  and  all  that  he 
knew  was  that  he  had  worn  a  "funny  hat,"  and  he 
could  tell  nothing  else. 

"A  little  chap  it  was,"  volunteered  a  cockney. 

"What's  that?"  asked  the  policeman.  "Speak 
up  —  nobody  here  going  to  bite  you,  my  man!  Did 
you  see  him?  What  did  he  look  like?" 

"  I  didn't  see  him  do  no  cuttin',  if  that's  what  you 
mean,  officer.  I  didn't  see  no  knife-play,  and  ye 
couldn't  hang  a  man  on  what  I  see,  and  - 

"What  did  you  see?"  said  the  policeman,  with  a 
show  of  asperity.  "Never  mind  what  we  can  do 
with  it.  What  did  you  see?" 

"Small  chap,  in  a  white  navy-cap,  and  'air  red 
as  the  sun  in  the  Gulf  of  H'annam." 


CHAPTER  IV 


I  GO  ABOARD  THE  UKUT  SANG" 


PERHAPS  I  should  have  told  the  policeman 
about  Petrak,  when  I   heard  the  cockney 
say  he  had  seen  a  red-headed  little  man  in  a 
white  navy-cap  running   away  from   the    Flagship 
Bar.     But,  if  I  had,  I  might  have  been  held  as  a 
witness  and  nothing  come  of  it,  for  it  developed  that 
the  cockney  knew  nothing  about  the  murder  —  as 
he  said  he  had  simply   seen  the  little  man  running 
away  from  the  scene. 

I  had  other  business  beside  aiding  the  police 
to  find  the  murderer  of  a  sailor,  and  that  business 
was  to  get  to  Hong-Kong  as  quickly  as  I  could 
in  the  Kut  Sang.  Even  then  it  was  time  that  I 
hasten  to  the  dock  and  board  the  steamer.  I  hailed 
a  cochero,  and,  leaving  the  Manila  police  to  settle 
their  own  mysteries,  got  my  baggage  from  the 
Oriente  and  rode  through  Binondo  toward  the  water 
front. 

Now  it  occurs  to  me  that  I  must  set  down  in 
their  order  the  events  of  that  day  in  their  proper 
sequence,  which  compels  me  to  tell  of  my  meeting 
with  Mr.  Trego  in  the  Hong-Kong-Shanghai  Bank. 

39 


40  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

It  was  not  until  the  whole  affair  was  ended  that  the 
significance  of  that  apparently  casual  meeting  in  the 
bank  came  upon  me  with  its  full  force,  and  I  saw 
the  pattern  of  what  was  to  become  a  tangled  suc 
cession  of  the  most  queer  happenings. 

There  were  papers  at  the  bank  which  I  must  take 
with  me,  and  on  the  way  to  the  docks  I  stopped 
there.  As  I  went  in  there  was  a  sallow-faced  man 
standing  outside  a  grated  window  talking  with  a 
teller.  He  was  smoking  a  long  Russian  cigarette, 
and  pulling  with  nervous  fingers  at  a  tiny  black 
moustache.  His  malacca  cane  was  leaning  against 
the  wall  by  his  side.  I  recognized  him  as  the  man 
who  had  driven  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker  out  of  the 
rear  room  of  the  bank,  when  the  latter  went  in  to 
seek  alms,  as  he  said. 

He  stood  aside  as  I  approached  the  teller's  win 
dow,  and  the  clerk  handed  out  the  papers  to  me,  with 
a  smile  and  some  trifling  remark. 

"When  are  you  leaving,  Mr.  Trenholm?"  asked 
the  clerk. 

"  In  an  hour  in  the  Kut  Sang,"  I  said,  and  the  man 
with  the  cigarette  turned  round  and  surveyed  me 
with  mild  surprise.  As  I  stepped  to  the  door  he 
went  up  to  the  window  and  whispered  something  to 
the  clerk. 

"Mr.  Trenholm!  Just  one  minute,  please,  Mr. 
Trenholm!" 

The  clerk  called  me  and  I  halted,  thinking  that 


ABOARD  THE  "Kur  SANG"        41 

he  had  forgotten  something  about  my  letter  of  credit, 
or  wanted  my  signature  again. 

"  I  want  you  to  meet  Mr.  Trego,"  said  the  teller. 
"He  will  be  with  you  in  the  Kut  Sang" 

I  bowed,  and  Mr.  Trego  bowed,  but  his  eyes 
were  appraising  me  as  he  looked  at  me,  although  out 
wardly  he  had  the  excessive  politeness  of  a  Latin. 

"I  am  very  glad  to  meet  you,"  he  said  without 
the  trace  of  an  accent,  although  in  that  mechanical 
manner  which  makes  the  words  sound  as  if  they  had 
been  read  many  times  out  of  a  grammar  or  phrase- 
book.  I  took  him  for  a  Frenchman. 

"  I  must  be  going  now,  but  I  hope  to  meet  you  on 
board,"  I  said,  and  we  bowed  again  and  I  left  him. 

"He's  all  right,  "  I  heard  the  teller  say  as  I  went 
out,  and  understood  that  the  bank-clerk  had  assured 
Trego  that  my  character  was  good  enough  for  him 
to  be  friendly  with  me  on  the  passage  to  Hong- 
Kong. 

As  we  swung  out  of  Calle  San  Fernando  I  saw 
the  Kut  Sang  tied  up  at  the  embankment  of  the 
Pasig  River,  with  the  Blue  Peter  at  her  foremast  and 
heavy  black  smoke  pouring  from  her  funnel.  She 
had  the  aspect  of  a  vessel  getting  ready  for  sea,  and 
the  last  of  her  cargo  was-being  put  into  her  hold. 

It  was  then  that  I  was  attracted  to  a  knot  of  natives 
and  sailors  clustered  about  an  organ,  in  front  of  the 
decrepit  building  which  I  knew  for  the  Sailors'  Home, 
roaring  out  the  chorus  of  "Rock  of  Ages"  as  though 


42  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

it  were  a  chantey.  There  could  be  no  mistaking 
the  figure  seated  at  the  wheezy  little  organ  —  the 
Rev.  Luther  Meeker,  with  his  battered  helmet  on  the 
back  of  his  head  and  his  goggles  turned  skyward  as 
he  wailed  in  a  high-piped  tenor  the  words  of  the  old 
hymn. 

He  was  too  busy  to  see  me  and  was  making  hard 
going  of  the  tune,  for  the  assorted  voices  which  fol 
lowed  his  lead  held  to  various  keys.  He  may  have 
seen  me  from  behind  his  goggles,  but,  if  he  did,  he 
gave  no  sign,  and  I  urged  the  driver  to  whip  up  the 
horse  and  pass  the  group  at  a  good  clip.  I  had  no 
desire  to  be  annoyed  by  the  old  impostor,  and  was 
afraid  that  he  might  have  some  new  pretext  to  keep 
me  from  going  in  the  Kut  Sang. 

We  were  well  clear  of  the  congregation  when  I  was 
startled  to  see  Petrak  emerge  from  the  pack  of  staring 
natives  about  the  organ,  and  run  after  my  carriage. 

"Take  your  luggage  aboard  for  a  peseta,  sir!"  he 
cried,  grasping  the  side  of  the  vehicle  and  keeping 
pace  with  it. 

I  confess  that  I  suspected  some  game,  and  that 
Meeker  had  waylaid  me.  It  looked  like  a  bold  move 
to  block  me  at  the  last  minute,  and  I  was  rather 
amused  at  the  idea  of  watching  their  game  and  seeing 
what  might  be  the  tactics. 

The  little  fellow  had  changed  his  appearance  a 
trifle.  His  red  head  was  covered  now  with  a  black 
cloth  cap,  making  him  look  more  like  a  stoker  than 


ABOARD  THE  "Kur  SANG"        43 

a  seaman.  His  ratlike  visage  was  covered  with  a 
coppery  stubble,  but  its  colour  was  not  apparent  at 
first  glance,  for  his  face  was  smeared  with  coal-dust 
and  grease. 

"I'm  nigh  dead  for  a  drink,"  he  whined.  "Let 
me  take  your  luggage  aboard,  sir  —  just  a  peseta, 
sir.  I've  had  jungle  fever  and  was  shipwrecked  — 
in  the  H.  B.  Leeds  it  was  that  went  down  in  a  typhoon. 
I  can't  get  a  ship  out  of  this  blasted  place.  I'm  an 
honest  sailor  if  some  hard  on  the  drink  — just  a 
peseta,  sir,  and  I'll  put  your  dunnage  down  in  your 
cabin  slick  as  a  whistle." 

"I  have  a  mind  to  turn  you  over  to  the  police,"  I 
told  him,  expecting  him  to  take  alarm  and  run  away, 
for  I  was  not  so  sure  he  had  not  had  a  hand  in  the 
murder  of  the  sailor  in  the  Flagship  Bar. 

The  cochero  had  pulled  up  his  horse  on  the  mole 
in  the  thick  of  the  scattered  cargo,  and  Petrak  still 
clung  to  the  stanchion  supporting  the  canvas-top  of 
the  carriage. 

"And  for  why?"  he  demanded  with  a  touch  of 
arrogance,  giving  me  a  shrewd  look.  "What  have 
I  been  doin'  of,  sir?" 

"That  little  cutting  in  the  Flagship  Bar." 

"The  squarehead?  Not  me,  sir.  The  bobbies 
got  that  chap  right  enough  —  one  of  his  mates  out 
of  this  wessel  right  alongside  what  you're  goin' 
aboard  of.  Just  a  peseta,  sir,  and  I'll  handle  your 
luggage." 


44  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"They  have  got  the  fellow  who  stabbed  the  man 
in  the  Flagship  Bar?  " 

"Slick  as  a  whistle,  some  two  hours  back.  One  of 
his  mates,  he  was,  that  did  the  cuttin'  —  lampman 
out  of  this  wessel.  Take  your  luggage." 

"Take  it  along,  then,  and  see  that  you  don't  drop 
it,"  I  told  him,  convinced  that  the  little  villain  could 
have  had  no  hand  in  the  murder,  even  if  he  had  been 
on  the  scene. 

He  shouldered  my  bag  and  went  up  the  gangway 
and  I  followed  him  closely.  I  looked  in  at  the  door 
of  the  saloon  where  I  saw  the  old  captain  seated  at 
the  table,  with  a  litter  of  papers  about  him,  arguing 
with  a  tall  rawboned  New  Englander,  whom  I  knew 
to  be  the  mate.  He  was  complaining  about  some 
thing. 

"I  say  we  ain't  goin'  to  git  out  to-night,  Cap'n 
Riggs,"  he  said.  "The  bo'sun  has  went  and  got 
hisself  stabbed  and  four  of  the  white  hands  are 
missin',  and  we  ain't  got  nobody  to  work  ship  but  the 
chinks." 

"We've  got  to  have  a  crew,  Mr.  Harris,  and  that's 
all  there  is  to  it,"  said  Captain  Riggs.  "You  say  the 
Greek  got  cut?" 

"Dead  as  a  door-nail,  cap'n.  Went  out  for 
lamp-wicks  and  got  hisself  slit  open  in  a  gin-mill; 
the  fool!  We're  turrible  short-handed,  cap'n." 

"Who  cut  him?" 

"Hanged  if  I  know.    The  police  say  the  lampman, 


ABOARD  THE  "Kux  SANG"        45 

but  the  lampman  didn't  leave  the  ship  until  after  the 
bo'sun  was  done  for,  near  as  I  can  make  it  out.  But 
the  police  have  the  lampman  locked  up  for  it,  and  I'm 
too  busy  to  bother  my  head.  First  we  know  they'll 
want  all  the  crew  for  witnesses.  There's  some 
monkey-business  goin'  on,  too." 

"Now,  what  do  you  mean?"  demanded  the  cap 
tain,  losing  patience. 

"Just  what  I'm  sayin'  of  —  thar's  a  furriner  sittin' 
on  the  dock  watchin'  everything  that  goes  over  the 
side.  Looks  like  a  Rooshan  Finn  to  me.  What 
sort  of  a  charter  we  got,  cap'n?  This  ain't  no  block- 
ade-runnin'  game,  is  it?  You  got  orders  for  Port 
Arthur?  If  you  have,  I'm  out  —  I  don't  want  no 
Japs  blowin'  me  up  unless  I'm  paid  for  it." 

"Mr.  Harris,  you  are  talking  nonsense.  We  are 
chartered  for  Hong-Kong.  My  orders  are  to  get  to 
sea  to-night,  no  matter  how  I  do  it,  and  you  ought  to 
be  able  to  scrape  up  a  crew  at  the  Sailors'  Home  for 
the  asking.  We'll  manage  all  right  with  the  chinks 
on  deck,  if  we  can  get  some  good  helmsmen.  You 
can't  expect  to  get  out  with  a  battleship  crew  this 
trip.  Get  the  cargo  in  her  and  send  the  Dutchman 
ashore  for  men  who  can  take  the  wheel." 

The  mate  went  out,  and  I  stepped  into  the  saloon 
and  presented  my  ticket  to  the  captain.  I  was 
rather  surprised  to  find  such  an  old  man  in  command, 
for  he  was  gray  and  stooped,  but  he  surveyed  me  over 
his  glasses  with  kindly  eyes,  although  I  knew  he  was 


46  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

being  harassed  with  difficulties  in  getting  routine 
established  on  board  the  Kut  Sang,  for  she  had  been 
in  dry-dock  and  everything  seemed  topsyturvy. 

"Glad  to  meet  ye,  Mr.  Trenholm,"  he  said.  "I'm 
up  to  my  scuppers  with  business.  Maybe  we'll  sail 
to-night  and  maybe  we  won't,  but  your  room  is 
No.  22,  starboard  side,  well  aft,  all  to  yourself.  Two 
more  passengers  to  come  yet,  according  to  the  list. 
Didn't  know  I  was  to  have  passengers  this  trip,  so 
I  can't  tell  what  the  accommodation  will  be,  but 
we'll  try  and  make  things  homelike  if  they  ain't  like 
a  liner.  You  got  a  valley?"  He  pointed  to  Petrak, 
who  stood  behind  me  with  my  baggage  on  his 
shoulder. 

"Hardly  that,"  I  laughed.  "He  says  he's  a 
sailor  with  a  Manila  thirst  in  his  throat  and  no  job." 

Petrak  swung  his  burden  to  the  deck  and  squared 
his  shoulders,  making  a  gesture,  which  he  intended 
as  a  salute  to  the  captain. 

"Petrak's  my  name,  sir,"  he  said,  addressing 
Captain  Riggs.  "I've  been  bo'sun,  sir,  discharged 
out  of  the  Southern  Cross  when  she  was  sold  in  Sin 
gapore,  and  shipped  out  in  the  H.  B.  Leeds  that  went 
down  in  a  typhoon.  Junk  picked  us  up,  sir,  what 
was  left  of  us,  and  I  lost  all  my  discharges  and  can't 
get  a  ship  out  of  here.  I'm  smart,  sir,  and  strong,  if 
I  do  look  small.  It's  because  I  ain't  had  no  wictuals 
to  speak  of,  sir." 

"Ever  handle  steam-wheel?" 


ABOARD  THE  "Kux  SANG"        47 

"Aye,  sir.  One  trip  out  of  Cardiff  to  Delaware 
Breakwater  in  the  Skipton  Castle.  Stood  wheel  — — 

"See  the  mate,"  said  Captain  Riggs,  and  Petrak 
went  out,  deserting  my  baggage. 

A  black  boy  in  a  scarlet  sarong  took  my  bag  away 
to  my  stateroom,  but  I  went  up  to  the  hurricane- 
deck,  where  I  found  a  grass-chair  under  an  awning 
and  sat  down  to  enjoy  a  cigar. 

Just  above  where  the  Kut  Sang  lay  was  the  Bridge 
of  Spain,  presenting  a  moving  panorama  of  the  many 
races  that  mingle  in  the  Philippine  capital.  The 
river  itself  was  alive  with  cascoes  being  poled  about 
by  half-naked  natives,  the  families  of  the  crews  doing 
the  cooking  and  primitive  housekeeping  on  the  half- 
decks,  while  the  family  fighting-cocks  strutted  on  the 
roofs  of  the  boats  and  crowed  defiance  to  each  other. 

On  the  opposite  side  of  the  river  was  the  walled 
city  and  the  moss-grown  walls  of  Fort  Santiago,  and 
on  both  banks  were  steamers  and  river-craft,  making 
a  colourful  and  noisy  scene. 

The  Rev.  Luther  Meeker  was  preaching  to  the 
group  before  the  Sailors'  Home,  and  I  watched  him 
until  he  closed  the  service  and  started  toward  the 
dock,  two  men  carrying  his  little  street-organ  behind 
him. 

Mr.  Harris,  the  mate,  was  doing  the  final  work  of 
getting  the  steamer  ready  to  sail,  and  was  preparing 
to  cast  off  the  lines,  when  a  dray,  loaded  with  boxes, 
pulled  up  alongside  the  vessel. 


48  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"What  ye  got  there?"  demanded  Harris.  "That 
ain't  for  this  packet  —  git  out  the  way  thar!" 

Just  then  a  man  in  white  darted  out  of  the  office 
of  the  harbour-police  station,  and,  holding  up  his 
hand,  cried  to  Harris: 

"One  minute  —  one  minute!" 

"One  minute  yer  grandmother!"  retorted  Harris 
angrily.  "Who  be  you  to  hold  up  this  ship!  Va 
mose!"  he  roared  to  the  driver  of  the  dray. 

The  man  in  white  ran  up  the  gangplank  with  a 
paper  in  one  hand  and  a  malacca  cane  in  the  other, 
and  I  recognized  him  as  Mr.  Trego,  the  man  to 
whom  I  had  bee»  introduced  in  the  bank.  He  met 
Harris  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder  to  the  hurricane-deck, 
and  they  were  right  below  me,  so  I  could  not  avoid 
hearing  what  took  place  between  them. 

"Call  the  captain,  Mr.  Mate,"  said  Trego  hur 
riedly,  and,  with  his  voice  lowered,  "Here  are  my 
papers  —  get  those  boxes  off  the  wagon,  eef  you 
please.  I  am  supercargo  for  the  owners.  I  hold 
the  charter  for  these  sheep.  Queeck  —  on  deck  with 
those  boxes  of  the  machinery." 

"Oh,  cap'n!"  called  Harris,  after  he  had  taken  a 
quick  glance  at  the  paper  which  Trego  thrust  before 
him,  and  Captain  Riggs  came  out  of  the  saloon. 

"What's  up  now?"  he  demanded.  "What's 
this?" 

Harris  waved  his  hand  toward  the  paper,  and 
Trego  put  it  before  Captain  Riggs. 


ABOARD  THE  "Kur  SANG"        49 

"Read  it,"  said  Trego.  "Here  are  your  orders 
from  the  company."  He  leaned  against  his  cane  and 
twirled  his  moustache,  while  Captain  Riggs  adjusted 
his  glasses  and  scanned  the  papers. 

"Get  that  stuff  aboard,  lively,"  said  Captain 
Riggs  to  Harris,  and  the  mate  gave  orders  to  have 
the  slings  thrown  outboard. 

"Where  do  they  go?"  asked  Harris. 

Captain  Riggs  looked  at  Trego  inquiringly. 

"In  the  storeroom  below  —  right  under  the  feet 
of  me,"  said  Trego,  stamping  his  foot. 

"Cargo  in  the  storeroom,"  said  Captain  Riggs 
in  surprise. 

"Eet  ees  for  you  to  obey,"  snapped  Trego  excitedly. 
"You  will  please  to  see  from  my  papers  that  I  am 
the  commander  of  all.  Read  eet  again  eef  you  do 
not  know!"  And  he  shook  his  malacca  cane  in  the 
air. 

"Get  that  cargo  aboard  and  stow  as  this  gentle 
man —  Mr.  —  what  is  it,  Trego?  —  as  Mr.  Trego 
says.  Move  navy-style!  Keep  clear  of  the  side 
there,  you !  Can't  you  see  we've  got  cargo  coming 
over  there!" 

"My  dear  sirs,  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  a  familiar 
voice,  and  I  stepped  to  the  rail  and  looked  over  to  see 
the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker  standing  at  the  edge  of  the 
embankment,  within  a  few  feet  of  where  Trego, 
Riggs,  and  Harris  stood. 

"Get  out  the  way!"  bawled  Riggs  to  him. 


50  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"No  offence,  I  hope,"  said  the  missionary,  "but 
is  this  the  steamer  Kut  Sang?" 

"It  is,"  said  Riggs,  and  turned  his  attention  to 
Harris  and  Trego,  who  were  giving  orders  to  the 
Chinese  at  the  winch. 

"Then  all  is  well,"  said  Meeker,  and  he  turned 
away  toward  the  gangplank,  where  the  two  men  were 
standing  with  his  organ  between  them,  awaiting  his 
orders. 

"Go  right  on  board  with  it,  my  good  men,"  he 
said  to  them.  "This  is  my  ship,  sure  enough,"  and 
he  preceded  them  up  the  gang. 

Captain  Riggs  came  up  the  ladder  from  the  fore- 
deck  in  time  to  see  the  men  bringing  the  organ 
aboard,  although  Meeker  was  out  of  his  sight  by  the 
time  the  captain  reached  a  position  where  he  had  a 
view  of  the  gang. 

"Here.  Where  are  you  chaps  going?"  he  shouted 
to  the  porters. 

They  stopped  and  looked  up  at  him. 

"Gear  for  a  passenger,"  said  the  taller  of  the 
two. 

"What  passenger?"  demanded  Riggs,   in  surprise. 

"A  parson,"  said  the  spokesman,  and  as  he  said  it 
Meeker  himself  came  up  the  after-ladder. 

"Ah,  the  captain,"  he  said.  "I  am  the  Rev. 
Luther  Meeker,"  he  explained,  presenting  his 
ticket.  "I  am  going  to  Hong-Kong,  and,  if  I  am 
not  mistaken,  this  is  the  good  ship  Kut  Sang" 


ABOARD  THE  "Kur  SANG"        51 

"That  your  baggage?  All  right,  you  men  — 
come  aboard  and  look  sharp." 

"That  is  my  hymnal  organ,"  said  Meeker,  looking 
over  the  side.  "Come  right  along  with  it,  my  good 
men,  but  leave  it  below.  How  do  you  do,  my  dear 
Mr.  Trenholm?  Captain,  those  two  men  are  sailors 
who  are  looking  for  a  ship,  if " 

"I'll  meet  you  below  in  a  minute  in  the  saloon," 
said  Captain  Riggs,  handing  back  the  ticket. 
"Mind  that  you  stay  aboard,  because  we  sail  at 
once,  sir." 

Meeker  bowed  to  me  again,  and  hurried  aft, 
twirling  his  shell  crucifix  between  his  fingers  in  a 
nervous  manner. 

"Hang  a  parson,  anyway,"  growled  Riggs,  grin 
ning  at  me.  "They  always  make  a  fuss  —  like  as 
not  he'll  sing  his  way  to  Hong-Kong,  with  that  old 
melodeon  of  his.  Oh,  Mr.  Harris!  There  are  two 
men  below  with  a  parson  who  say  they  are  sailors. 
Have  the  Dutchman  sign  them  on  if  they  are  able 
hands." 

He  went  down  the  ladder  again  to  the  fore-deck, 
and  I  went  down  to  my  stateroom  to  see  that  my 
baggage  was  safe. 

"Smart  job,  my  man;  smart  job!"  I  heard  the 
Rev.  Luther  Meeker  saying  as  I  stepped  into  the 
passage. 

He  was  in  the  stateroom  next  to  mine,  but  the 
door  was  open. 


52  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"Who's  that?"  asked  somebody  cautiously. 
Then,  in  a  louder  tone:  "We  got  your  dunnage 
stowed  all  snug,  sir." 

I  stepped  into  my  room,  and,  after  a  minute's 
whispered  consultation,  I  heard  some  one  step  into 
the  passageway  and  run  forward.  Looking  out  I 
saw  the  little  red-headed  man  scurrying  away. 

"Single  her  up!"  called  Captain  Riggs  from  the 
bridge,  and  I  knew  we  were  letting  go  of  Manila  as 
the  winches  drew  in  the  mooring-lines,  and  the 
whistle  blew  a  farewell  blast. 

The  nose  of  the  Kut  Sang  fell  away  from  the  em 
bankment  and  into  the  current  of  the  Pasig,  which 
swung  her  toward  Manila  Bay  and  the  China  Sea. 

I  could  hear  Meeker  humming  a  tune  and  arrang 
ing  his  baggage.  I  stood  for  an  instant  and  pon 
dered  over  the  situation,  not  sure  that  I  would  not 
be  wiser  to  remain  in  Manila  rather  than  sail  in  the 
Kut  Sang.  I  shivered  as  I  sensed  danger  about  me, 
as  one  feels  the  presence  of  an  intruder  in  the  dark 
that  cannot  be  seen. 

Then  I  laughed  at  myself,  and  opened  my  bag 
for  my  pistols. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    DEAD    MAN    IN    THE    PASSAGE 

THE  Kut  Sang  was  dropping  downstream  as 
I  locked  my  stateroom  and  made  my  way 
to  the  upper-deck,  partly  to  get  a  last  look 
at  Manila,  but  more  for  the  purpose  of  considering 
what  I  should  do  in  the  matter  of  telling  Captain 
Riggs  that  I  suspected  Meeker  was  not  a  missionary. 

In  the  last  few  minutes  before  the  departure  of  the 
vessel  I  had  suddenly  been  struck  with  the  idea  that 
Meeker  was  more  than  a  mere  spy  who  mistook  me 
for  one  of  his  own  ilk.  This  feeling  was  vague  and 
formless,  and  I  did  not  know  how  to  begin  to  put 
together  the  various  elements  that  seemed  to  connect 
some  sort  of  a  well-defined  plot. 

No  sooner  would  I  set  about  putting  certain  facts 
together  than  I  would  laugh  at  myself  for  manufactur 
ing  a  mystery;  and,  after  I  had  tried  to  shake  off  the 
impression  that  the  Kut  Sang  and  all  of  us  in  her 
were  more  than  mere  travellers  and  seamen,  the 
fantastic  ideas  insisted  upon  running  through  my 
head. 

Through  this  formless  mass  of  queer  events  of  the 
day,  Meeker  and  the  little  red-headed  man  kept  to 

S3 


54  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

the  front  of  my  fancies,  and  with  them  the  steamer 
Kut  Sang. 

Why,  I  asked  myself,  had  Meeker  made  such 
strenuous  efforts  to  keep  me  from  taking  passage  in 
the  vessel?  It  seemed  absurd  to  suppose  that  he 
had  acted  as  he  did,  simply  because  he  disliked  the 
idea  of  having  me  for  a  fellow  passenger. 

Then  there  was  Trego  and  Meeker's  appearance 
at  the  bank,  "seeking  alms,"  and  the  further  fact 
that  Trego  was  in  the  Kut  Sang.  It  seemed  to  be 
more  than  a  coincidence  that  the  two  of  them  should 
meet  as  they  did. 

I  even  found  something  queer  in  the  killing  of  the 
boatswain  of  the  Kut  Sang  at  the  Flagship  Bar,  and 
began  to  wonder  if  Petrak  did  not  have  a  hand  in  the 
murder,  even  though  he  was  so  ready  with  a  denial 
when  I  spoke  to  him  about  it. 

As  I  stood  at  the  rail  of  the  hurricane-deck,  and 
thought  of  these  things,  Petrak  came  up  from  the 
fore-deck  and  stood  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder  leading 
to  the  bridge,  where  I  could  hear  Captain  Riggs 
pacing  to  and  fro  and  speaking  through  the  trap  to 
the  helmsman  about  the  course. 

The  little  red-headed  man  grinned  at  me  and  set 
to  work  polishing  the  knob  of  the  wheel-house  door, 
and  not  until  that  minute  did  I  realize  that  he  had 
come  along  with  us  in  the  Kut  Sang.  And  he  like 
wise  reminded  me  at  once  that  it  was  I  who  had 
brought  him  aboard. 


THE  DEAD  MAN  55 

"I  signed  on,  sir,"  he  said,  pointing  to  his  new  cap, 
which  had  the  steamer's  name  embroidered  upon  it. 
"Thanks  to  you,  sir,  I  got  a  ship  out." 

"I  am  glad  you  did,"  I  said  curtly,  not  sure 
whether  I  ought  to  be  amused  at  the  turn  of  events 
by  which  I  had  unwittingly  brought  the  little  rascal 
along  with  me. 

I  glanced  up  the  companionway  to  Captain  Riggs, 
and  had  a  mind  to  go  up  and  speak  to  him  about 
Meeker,  but  I  disliked  to  invade  the  bridge,  sacred 
territory  at  sea.  He  was  standing  just  at  the  head  of 
the  ladder  then,  and  could  see  me. 

"Would  you  mind  the  peseta,  sir?"  asked  Petrak. 

I  remembered  that  he  had  brought  my  bag  aboard, 
and,  finding  a  peso  in  my  pocket  —  five  times  what 
he  had  asked  for  —  I  gave  him  the  coin. 

"Here,"  I  said;  "take  this,  and  keep  out  of  my 
reach.  I've  seen  quite  enough  of  you  for  a  time." 

"Please  don't  tip  my  crew,"  Captain  Riggs  called 
down  to  me  in  a  pleasant  manner.  "The  steward's 
department  must  attend  to  the  passengers,  for  we 
are  short-handed  on  deck,  and  I  can't  have  the  men 
running  errands." 

"It's  for  services  rendered,"  I  told  Riggs,  and  he 
nodded  as  if  satisfied  with  my  explanation,  and 
turned  away  to  the  other  end  of  the  bridge. 

Impulsively  I  started  up  the  ladder,  determined 
at  least  to  tell  him  what  I  suspected  of  Meeker  and 
let  him  judge  for  himself,  or  be  on  his  guard  against 


?6  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

the  old  impostor,  whether  he  liked  my  tale-bearing 
or  not.  As  I  put  my  hand  out  to  take  the  ladder- 
guard,  Petrak  thrust  himself  before  me  and  barred 
the  way. 

"Can't  go  on  the  bridge,  sir;  against  orders,"  he 
said. 

I  fell  back,  convinced  that  he  was  right  and  that 
I  had  had  a  narrow  escape  from  making  an  ass  of 
myself.  Captain  Riggs  probably  would  not  thank 
me  for  disturbing  him  or  bothering  him  with  idle 
rumours  and  fanciful  yarns  about  passengers,  even 
though  they  might  be  spies. 

The  steamer  was  now  well  into  the  bay.  The 
sun  was  at  the  rim  of  hills  between  us  and  the  open 
sea,  and  the  sky  was  aflame  in  a  gorgeous  tropical 
sunset. 

Harris,  the  mate,  was  busy  on  the  fore-deck  bat 
tening  down  hatches  and  clearing  up  the  litter  of 
ropes  and  slings.  The  Kut  Sang  was  plainly  enough 
short-handed  for  the  passage,  for  there  were  but  half 
a  dozen  Chinese  sailors  in  sight.  Petrak  worked 
with  a  cloth  on  the  brass-knob,  and  he  was  loafing 
without  a  doubt. 

I  suspected  that  he  was  afraid  I  was  waiting  for 
him  to  go  away,  so  that  I  might  go  up  the  ladder  to 
the  bridge.  One  of  the  men  who  had  brought 
Meeker' s  organ  aboard  had  the  wheel,  a  long,  lanky 
cockney  he  was,  from  what  I  could  see  of  him  through 
the  window  of  the  pilot-house. 


THE  DEAD  MAN  57 

We  were  well  clear  of  the  ships  at  anchor  outside 
the  breakwater  when  four  bells  — •  six  o'clock  — 
struck,  and  Harris  came  up  and  went  on  the  bridge, 
passing  without  apparently  seeing  me.  He  growled 
something  to  Petrak,  and  the  red-headed  man  went 
toward  the  forecastle. 

"Time  for  Rajah  to  have  the  bell  going,"  said  Riggs 
as  he  descended  to  the  hurricane-deck  and  greeted 
me  affably.  "What  do  you  say  to  going  below  and 
seeing  what's  on  the  table?" 

As  he  spoke  I  heard  the  rattle  of  a  gong,  and  as  I 
turned  to  go  below  with  Captain  Riggs,  Meeker  came 
around  the  deck-house  and  joined  us,  regarding  us 
from  under  his  heavy  brows  as  he  approached,  and 
rubbing  his  hands  in  a  manner  that  increased  my 
growing  dislike  for  him. 

"My  dear  sirs,"  he  said;  "that  is  a  beautiful  sight. 
I  have  never  seen,  in  all  my  twenty  years  in  the 
Orient,  such  a  sunset." 

"Can't  keep  me  from  my  meals,"  said  Captain 
Riggs,  waving  to  Meeker  to  precede  him  into  the 
companionway.  I  was  rather  pleased  at  the  cap 
tain's  gruffness  with  him,  and  resolved  that  as  soon 
as  the  opportunity  offered  I  would  discuss  the  crafty 
gentleman  with  Riggs. 

We  found  Trego  at  table.  He  looked  up,  and 
made  no  attempt  to  conceal  his  surprise  at  seeing 
Meeker. 

"Ah!   Mr.  Trenholm,"  he    said  to    me,  and  we 


58  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

shook  hands,  and  the  Malay  boy  gave  me  the  seat 
opposite  him. 

"Mr.  Trego — allow  me— the  Reverend  Meeker," 
said  Riggs. 

"So  you  and  Mr.  Trenholm  have  met  before?" 
said  Meeker,  evidently  astonished  because  Trego 
spoke  to  me  without  an  introduction. 

"Old  friends,"  and  I  winked  at  Trego,  to  the 
further  mystification  of  the  pseudo-missionary,  who 
took  the  seat  beside  me.  Captain  Riggs  took  the 
head  of  the  table,  so  that  he  was  between  Trego  and 
me. 

"And  this  is  Rajah,  the  mess-boy,"  said  Riggs, 
indicating  the  black  boy  who  stood  behind  him,  clad 
in  a  white  jacket  with  brass  buttons,  below  which  he 
wore  a  scarlet  sarong  reaching  to  his  bare  feet,  and 
evidently  fashioned  from  an  old  table-cover.  The 
hilt  of  a  kris  showed  above  the  folds  of  his  sarong, 
and  the  two  lower  buttons  of  the  jacket  were  left 
open,  so  that  the  dagger  might  be  free  to  his  hand. 
He  grinned  and  showed  his  teeth. 

"Dumb  as  a  dog-fish,  but  can  hear  like  a  terrier," 
said  Riggs.  "Picked  him  up  in  the  streets  of  Singa 
pore,  where  he  was  sort  of  an  assistant  magician. 
He's  quick  with  that  knife,  gentlemen." 

The  captain  was  obviously  proud  of  his  queer 
bodyguard  and  servant. 

"It  is  a  pity  that  he  should  be  allowed  to  carry  a 
a  fearsome  weapon,  which  is  a  menace  to  his  fellow- 


THE  DEAD  MAN  59 

men,"  said  Meeker,  shrinking  away  from  the  boy. 
"I  believe  he  would  slay  a  human  over  a  trifle." 

"Absolutely  harmless  unless  he  has  some  reason 
to  anger,"  laughed  Riggs,  somewhat  amused  at  the 
nervousness  of  Meeker.  "Has  to  pack  that  cheese- 
knife  —  chinks  pick  on  him  if  he  don't.  Give  him  a 
wide  berth,  though,  when  they  see  that  blade. 
Quick  with  it." 

"But  we  should  lead  the  barbarian  to  the  light," 
said  Meeker.  "  It  is  a  dreadful  example  for  Christians 
to  set  such  people.  They  should  not  be  allowed  to 
carry  such  weapons  —  the  practice  leads  to  crime." 

"Soup  all  around,  Rajah,"  said  Riggs,  as  if  to 
close  the  subject. 

"Do  you  carry  deadly  weapons,  Mr.  Trenholm? 
Do  you  approve  of  the  bearing  of  arms?" 

"I  always  have  a  weapon  at  hand,"  I  replied 
seriously.  "One  never  can  tell  when  it  will  be 
needed  in  this  country,  and  I  believe  in  always  being 
ready  for  an  emergency." 

"Indeed!  And  is  it  possible  that  you  have  a 
dagger  concealed  upon  your  person?" 

"No  daggers;  but  this  is  my  right  bower"  — • 
tapping  the  butt  of  the  pistol  on  my  right  side 
—  "and  this  is  my  left  bower,"  and  I  tapped  my 
left  side. 

Mr.  Trego  burst  out  laughing  at  this,  much  to  the 
discomfiture  of  Meeker,  who  glared  at  him,  and 
<;dged  away  from  me. 


60  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"And  do  you  carry  such  death-dealing  machinery, 
Mr.  Trego?"  asked  Meeker,  a  sneer  in  the  question. 

Trego  reached  for  his  malacca  cane.  In  an 
instant  he  had  whipped  it  apart  and  presented  a 
delicate  point  toward  Meeker,  who  recoiled  at  the 
suddenness  of  the  unexpected  thrust. 

"With  me  at  all  times,"  said  Trego,  when  the 
captain  stopped  laughing.  "And  my  cabeen —  eet 
ees  one  beeg  arsenal,  like  you  call  it  in  your  lan 
guage.  Yes." 

"A  pitiable  example  for  the  heathen,"  said  Meeker. 
"I  trust  that  you  are  not  armed  to  the  teeth,  as  the 
expression  goes,  captain." 

"I  don't  want  to  spoil  your  appetite,"  said  Riggs. 
"Of  course,  Mr.  Trego  needs  those  things,  as  he 
is " 

"A  passenger,"  said  Trego,  giving  the  captain 
a  quick  glance. 

"A  passenger,"  said  Riggs  blankly.  "To  be  sure, 
a  passenger.  Now,  Mr.  Meeker,  I  wish  you  would 
say  a  grace,  if  it  pleases  you." 

Meeker  bowed  his  head  and  mumbled  something 
which  I  could  not  make  out;  besides,  I  was  much 
more  interested  in  a  little  byplay  between  Captain 
Riggs  and  Trego,  which  began  as  soon  as  Meeker  and 
I  had  piously  cast  our  eyes  downward. 

It  was  a  signal  conveyed  by  Trego  to  the  captain, 
in  which  he  cautioned  him  to  silence  about  some 
thing,  by  putting  his  finger  to  his  lips,  as  if  some 


THE  DEAD  MAN  61 

subject  were  tabooed.  Riggs  nodded  as  if  he  under 
stood.  Before  Meeker  had  finished,  Trego  looked  at 
him  and  scowled,  to  convey  to  the  captain  that  he  did 
not  like  the  missionary. 

"The  weather  is  going  to  be  fine  from  the  way  it 
looks  now,"  said  Riggs,  in  an  altered  tone,  as  if  he 
wanted  to  shift  the  conversation  into  more  congenial 
lines.  "I  trust  we  will  all  do  our  best  to  stay  up  to 
the  weather  in  that  respect  —  quick  passage  and 
good  company  keeps  everybody  on  good  terms  and  in 
good  spirits,"  he  added  significantly. 

Then  he  began  giving  us  the  stock-jokes  of  the 
China  Sea  and  telling  stories  of  his  younger  days, 
when  he  had  better  commands  than  the  old  Kut  Sang. 
He  was  a  bluff  but  likable  old  sea-dog,  but  I  saw  that 
he  observed  Meeker  closely  as  he  talked,  and  I  knew 
that  he  was  none  too  well  taken  with  him. 

So  the  meal  went  on  well  enough.  Night  had 
fallen  upon  us  with  tropical  swiftness,  and  a  cooling 
breeze  was  blowing  through  the  open  ports,  charged 
with  the  salt  tang  of  the  sea.  The  Kut  Sang  was 
humming  along,  and  there  was  a  soothing  murmur 
through  the  ancient  tub  as  she  shouldered  the  gentle 
swells  of  the  bay. 

The  saloon  was  cozy  and  we  dallied  at  table, 
chiefly  because  we  did  not  like  to  leave  while  Riggs 
was  telling  his  stories,  although  I  would  have  pre 
ferred  my  cigar  on  deck. 

There  was  something  about  the  little  party  in  the 


62  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

saloon  of  the  Kut  Sang  that  evening  that  held  my 
attention.  To  me  the  air  seemed  charged  with  a 
foreboding  of  something  imminent  —  something 
out  of  the  ordinary,  something  to  be  long  remem 
bered.  I  told  myself,  in  a  premonition  of  things  to 
come,  that  I  should  always  remember  Captain  Riggs 
and  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker  and  Trego  and  Rajah, 
and  the  very  pattern  of  the  parti-coloured  cloth  on 
the  table,  the  creak  of  the  pivot-chairs  and  the  pic 
ture  of  the  Japanese  girl  in  the  mineral-water 
calendar  which  swayed  on  the  bulkhead  opposite 
my  seat. 

I  can  see  them  now;  as  clearly  as  if  I  were  back  in 
the  old  Kut  Sang,  with  the  chatter  of  the  Chinese 
sailors  coming  through  the  ports  to  spice  the  tales 
of  the  China  coast  which  Riggs  kept  going. 

We  picked  up  Corregidor  Light,  which  winked  at 
us  through  the  ports  as  we  entered  the  channel. 
Somebody  looked  in  at  the  door  of  the  passage  and 
Riggs  waved  a  napkin  at  him. 

"Tell  Mr.  Harris  to  call  me  if  he  needs  me,"  he 
said,  and  then  to  us:  "It's  clear,  and  Mr.  Harris, 
my  mate,  knows  the  Boca  Grande  like  the  palm  of 
his  hand." 

He  was  well  launched  into  another  of  his  long 
yarns  and  had  a  fresh  cigar  between  his  teeth  when 
the  pitching  of  the  steamer  told  us  we  were  heading 
into  the  China  Sea.  We  were  clear  of  the  channel 
by  the  time  he  had  finished  the  adventure  he  was 


THE  DEAD  MAN  63 

relating,  and  Trego  was  beginning  to  fidget.  We  all 
moved  as  if  to  leave  the  table. 

"I  signed  the  two  men  you  brought  aboard,  Mr. 
Meeker,"  said  Riggs.  "What  are  their  names?" 

"That  I  do  not  know  for  certain,"  replied  Meeker. 
"I  believe  the  chap  in  the  navy-pantaloons  is  known 
as  — Buckrow,  and  the  other,  the  tall  Briton,  is  called 
'Long  Jim,'  or  some  such  name,  by  his  companions. 
They  both  appear  to  be  worthy  men,  and  it  made  me 
sad  to  see  them  on  the  beach  in  Manila  for  the  need 
of  passage  to  Hong-Kong,  or  some  other  place  where 
they  would  be  more  likely  to  get  a  ship. 

"That  is  why  I  interceded  in  their  behalf,  and  it  is 
very  kind  of  you,  captain,  to  make  it  possible  for 
them  to  better  themselves,  for  idle  men  in  these 
ports  fall  into  evil,  and  it  is  best  that  they  should 
keep  to  the  sea.  They  were  both  well  spoken  of  by 
Mr.  Marley,  who  has  charge  of  the  Sailors'  Home." 

"Two  sailors  that  I  see?"  Trego  asked  the  cap 
tain. 

"Mr.  Meeker  brought  two  men  aboard  with  him 
to  carry  his  gear,"  explained  Riggs.  "They  wanted 
to  get  out  of  Manila,  and,  as  I  was  short-handed  for 
chinks,  I  let  'em  work  their  passage.  They  signed 
with  the  commissioner,  and  will  get  four  Hong-Kong 
dollars  for  the  trip." 

Trego  frowned  as  he  toyed  with  a  bamboo  napkin- 
ring,  but  said  nothing. 

"Your  red-headed  chap  is  a  good  man  at  the  helm," 


64.  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

said  Riggs  to  me.  "He's  got  the  wheel  now,  and, 
with  the  other  two,  I'll  have  good  quartermasters. 
The  chinkies  are  poor  steerers." 

"Meester  Trenholm  ees  breeng  a  sailor,  too?" 
demanded  Trego,  turning  his  black  eyes  on  me  in  a 
manner  that  I  could  not  understand. 

"He  brought  my  baggage  aboard,"  said  I,  some 
what  annoyed.  "He  offered  his  services  to  Captain 
Riggs,  and  was  hired,  and  it  is  no  affair  of  mine." 

"The  little  man  with  hair  of  red?"  persisted 
Trego. 

"Decidedly  red." 

Knowing,  as  I  did,  that  he  had  charge  of  the  ship 
—  a  fact  which  he  evidently  wished  to  keep  from 
Meeker  and  me,  judging  from  his  signals  to  the  cap 
tain  —  I  understood  in  a  way  his  interest  in  the  crew. 

"  Pardon,  captain,"  said  Trego  abruptly.  "  I  must 
go  to  my  cabeen  for  some  cigarettes.  Soon  I  will 
return.  I  hope  you  will  be  here." 

It  struck  me  that  his  suggestion  that  Captain 
Riggs  wait  for  him  was  more  in  the  nature  of  a  com 
mand  than  a  request. 

Rajah  served  coffee  again,  and  the  three  of  us  fell 
silent.  It  was  an  awkward  situation,  for  we  all  felt 
embarrassed — at  least  I  did,  as  a  result  of  Trego's 
displeasure  over  the  method  of  recruiting  the  crew. 
I  wished  that  I  had  left  Petrak  on  the  dock. 

Meeker  took  an  old  newspaper  from  his  pocket 
and  unfolded  it  on  the  table  carefully. 


THE  DEAD  MAN  65 

"I  think  I  have  something  here  which  will  interest 
you  both,"  he  began.  "It  concerns  —  my  glasses! 
Will  you  pardon  me  for  a  minute  while  I  get  my 
glasses  from  my  room?  I'll  be  back  presently,"  and 
he  bowed  himself  out. 

"The  old  shark  is  funny,"  said  Riggs.  "I  hold 
to  what  I  have  said  about  parsons  —  I  don't  like  'em 
aboard  me." 

I  glanced  at  the  passage  and  wondered  if  I  would 
have  time  to  whisper  to  Riggs  about  Meeker  before 
the  latter  returned. 

"He  wants  to  hold  some  sort  of  service  for'ard 
this  evening,"  continued  the  captain.  "I'm  suited 
if  the  crew  is.  It's  not  that  I'm  against  the  sailing 
directions  in  the  Bible,  mind,  Mr.  Trenholm,  or  an 
ungodly  man,  for  I  was  a  deacon  back  home  in 
Maine.  I  don't  like  this  chap  —  he  looks  too  slip 
pery  to  suit  me." 

Meeker  came  back  and  closed  the  bulkhead  door 
behind  him,  adjusting  his  glasses  and  picking  up  the 
newspaper  as  he  took  his  seat. 

"My  dear  sirs,"  he  resumed,  "I  want  to  read  this 
little  article  to  you  and  then  I'll  explain  it  more  fully 
to  you.  I  am  sure  that  you  will  find  it  of  interest, 
Mr.  Trenholm,  as  a  literary  man  and  a  member  of 
the  press,  even  if  in  no  other  way,  and  you,  my  dear 
Captain  Riggs,  will  be  interested  because  it  concerns 
the  sea,  and  you  may  have  some  knowledge  of  the 
facts.  When  I  was  in  Aden  four  —  no,  five  years 


66  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

ago  it  was  —  I  met  a  most  remarkable  gentleman. 
Most  remarkable!  He  told  me  a  story  that  was 
passing  strange,  and 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  bulkhead  door  flying 
open  violently  and  Rajah,  with  his  hands  thrown  up 
and  terror  in  his  eyes,  ran  toward  Captain  Riggs, 
making  frantic  efforts  to  frame  words  with  his 
lips. 

"Sally  Ann!"  cried  Riggs  in  alarm,  jumping  up. 
"What  the  devil  has  happened  to  give  the  boy  such 
a  turn!  He's  nigh  out  of  his  wits!" 

Rajah  pointed  to  the  open  door,  but  we  could  not 
see  into  the  passage  beyond  the  triangle  of  light 
thrown  out  from  the  gimbal-lamps  in  the  saloon. 
The  boy  ran  toward  the  door  and  pointed  again, 
and  then  drew  back  in  fear,  drawing  his  kris  and 
raising  it  in  a  position  of  defence. 

Captain  Riggs  ran  to  the  door  and  I  followed  him, 
with  my  hand  on  my  pistol,  Meeker  crowding  against 
my  shoulders.  In  the  dim  light  oozing  into  the 
passage  we  made  out  an  indistinct  figure. 

"What  in  Sally  Ann's  name  is  this?"  shouted 
Riggs,  darting  out  and  seizing  the  object,  which  he 
pulled  toward  the  light. 

It  was  the  body  of  Mr.  Trego,  stabbed  to  the  heart, 
the  sailor's  sheath-knife  which  had  killed  him  still  in 
his  fatal  wound. 

"What  the  blue  blazes  does  this  mean?"  demanded 
Captain  Riggs,  turning  to  us  as  if  we  could  explain 


THE  DEAD  MAN  67 

the  tragedy.  "What  in  the  name  of  Sally  Ann  has 
happened  here?  Tell  me  that?" 

"Can  that  be  our  friend,  Mr.  Trego,  who  was  with 
us  but  a  minute  ago?"  asked  Meeker,  aghast  as  he 
gazed  at  the  waxen  features  of  the  dead  man. 

"It's  Mr.  Trego  right  enough,"  shouted  Riggs. 
"It's  Trego  and  no  doubt  of  that!  Well,  I'm 
blowed!" 

"Who  could  have  done  such  an  awful  thing?" 
whispered  Meeker,  staring  at  me  with  wide-open 
eyes.  "Who  could  have  done  this?" 

"Don't  ask  me!"  Captain  Riggs  bawled  at  him. 
"Don't  ask  me!" 

"He's  quite  dead,"  said  Meeker,  leaning  forward 
again.  "  In  the  midst  of  life  we  are  in  death." 

He  held  his  hands  over  the  dead  man  and  said  a 
prayer. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE    RED-HEADED    MAN    MAKES    AN    ACCUSATION 

THAT'S  all  very  pious  and  according  to 
Hoyle,"  said  Captain  Riggs,  breaking  into 
wrath  as  Meeker  finished  his  prayer  over 
the  body  of  Trego.  "But  I'd  have  you  know,  sir, 
that  the  Kut  Sang  is  no  bally  chapel,  and  I  don't 
take  murder  aboard  me  as  a  regular  custom,  and 
let  it  go  at  that.  Somebody  will  have  to  answer 
for  this  at  the  end  of  a  rope,  or  my  name's  not 
Riggs.  Hereafter  when  there's  praying  to  be  done 
I'll  order  it." 

"I  was  merely  speeding  a  departing  soul,"  said 
Meeker. 

"That's  all  very  well,  Mr.  Meeker,  but  I've  got  to 
see  what  this  is  all  about,  and  why  —  Mr.  Trego  is 
supercargo  in  charge  of  the  ship  and  " 

Riggs  stopped  suddenly  when  he  realized  that  he  had 
told  us  the  secret  which  Trego  wished  kept  from  us. 

"Well,  I've  got  trouble  enough,"  he  said,  confused 
at  what  had  happened. 

"Nothing  irregular,  I  trust,"  said  Meeker,  raising 
his  eyebrows  in  mild  surprise  and  observing  me  cau 
tiously. 

68 


MAKES  AN  ACCUSATION          69 

/ 

"Too  blasted  irregular  to  suit  me,"  said  Riggs. 
"Gentlemen,  I  may  as  well  tell  you  that  this  man  is 
down  on  the  passenger-list  as  a  passenger  like  your-, 
selves,  but  at  the  last  minute  before  we  sailed  he 
showed  papers  as  supercargo  and  announced  that  he 
was  in  charge  of  the  ship,  and  that  he  represented 
the  charter  party.  The  truth  of  his  statements  was 
borne  out  by  a  messenger  from  the  owners.  He  told 
me  that  he  would  explain  it  all  as  soon  as  we  got  to 
sea,  and  now  he  has  been  killed.  Is  it  any  wonder  I 
am  upset  about  it?" 

"It  is  passing  strange,"  said  Meeker.  "Will  you 
have  to  turn  back  to  Manila  on  account  of  this?" 

"My  last  orders  to  proceed  to  Hong-Kong  at  the 
best  speed  still  stand.  The  Dutchman,  Rajah  — 
the  Dutchman,"  and  he  made  a  sign  to  the  Malay 
boy  to  call  the  second  mate. 

The  three  of  us  gathered  at  the  end  of  the  table 
and  steadied  ourselves  in  the  minute  we  waited  for 
the  Dutchman,  who  soon  came  clumping  down  the 
passage.  He  nearly  stumbled  over  the  body  lying 
just  outside  the  coaming  of  the  door,  and  then 
stopped  and  stared  at  the  dead  man. 

"Gott!"  he  said,  and  then  looked  at  Riggs  ques- 
tioningly. 

"Take  the  bridge  and  have  Mr.  Harris  muster  the 
crew  —  all  hands,  and  look  sharp,"  said  Riggs. 
"Have  every  man  Jack  of  'em  up  here,  and  let  us  see 
what  they  have  been  about.  Have  Mr.  Harris 


70  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

muster  the  crew!  Hear  me?  Don't  stand  there 
like  a  barn-owl!  Relieve  Mr.  Harris,  and  have  all 
hands  aft!" 

He  hurried  away,  and  that  was  the  last  I  ever  saw 
of  the  second  mate  of  the  Kut  Sang.  Rajah  and  a 
Chinese  sailor  spread  old  canvas  close  to  the  door 
inside  the  saloon,  and  lifted  Trego's  body  on  it. 

Harris  came  up  the  passage  and  leaned  against  the 
door.  He  had  on  an  old  pair  of  dungaree  trousers 
and  a  jacket  that  had  been  white,  and  his  bare  feet 
were  thrust  into  native  heelless  slippers. 

"This  is  a  nice  mess,  ain't  it?"  he  growled,  looking 
coldly  at  the  scene  before  him.  "Who  let  the  knife 
into  him?" 

"That's  what  we  want  to  find  out  at  once,"  said 
Riggs.  "Have  all  hands  up  here,  the  watch  below 
and  all.  Muster  them  in  the  passageway,  and  let 
them  in  here  one  at  a  time,  the  white  hands  first. 
We've  got  to  get  at  the  bottom  of  this  affair  right 
away,  Mr.  Harris." 

"Like  as  not  somebody'll  know  the  knife,  cap'n," 
suggested  the  mate. 

"That's  it,  Mr.  Harris.  Bring  'em  up  here  with  a 
sharp  turn  and  no  laying  back,  and  you  be  here  so  I 
can  find  out  what  every  man  has  been  at  in  the  last 
quarter  of  an  hour  —  you  know  what  this  means." 

We  sat  down  at  the  table,  Riggs  at  the  end  in  a 
pivot-chair  swung  toward  the  door  of  the  passage. 
He  took  off  his  glasses  and  wiped  them  in  an  officious 


MAKES  AN  ACCUSATION          71 

manner,  and  sent  Rajah  for  a  pad  of  paper  and  a 
pencil. 

"Then  this  poor  Mr.  Trego  was  not  a  passenger," 
said  Meeker,  leaning  his  elbows  on  the  table  and 
scanning  Riggs  closely. 

"Gentlemen,"  began  the  captain,  clearing  his 
throat  and  adjusting  his  silver-rimmed  spectacles 
again,  "I  am  going  to  hold  an  inquiry  now,  and,  as 
witnesses  to  what  takes  place,  I  think  you  should 
know  the  facts  in  the  case,  as  far  as  I  know  them. 

"There  is  something  about  this  business  that  has 
carried  by  with  me.  Never  had  anything  like  this 
happen  aboard  me  in  the  thirty  years  that  I've  had 
a  command.  First  time  since  I've  had  a  master's 
ticket  that  I  haven't  had  the  full  confidence  of  the 


owners. 
« 


This  man  Trego  was  very  mysterious,  and  why 
he  wanted  to  sail  as  a  passenger  when  he  was  super 
cargo,  and  keep  it  from  you,  gentlemen,  is  past  me. 
Perhaps  I  should  not  have  said  anything  about  this 
end  of  it  until  I  have  examined  his  papers,  but  as 
witnesses  I  want  you  to  know  the  facts  as  they  lay." 

"A  most  mysterious  affair  —  most  mysterious," 
agreed  Meeker,  shaking  his  head  and  fingering  his 
shell  crucifix.  "What  are  the  details  of  the  man's 
coming  aboard,  captain?  I  am  not  quite  clear  on 
that  point." 

"He  was  down  as  a  passenger,  just  as  you  gentle 
men  are.  I  never  saw  him  before  until  Mr.  Harris 


72  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

called  me  forward  before  the  lines  were  cast  off. 
He  told  me  that  this  man  wanted  to  take  charge  of 
lading  the  last  of  the  cargo  —  cargo  that  was  mani 
fested  as  machinery.  His  papers  were  right,  and 
the  messenger  from  the  owners  made  it  all  as  he 
said. 

"It  is  not  for  me  to  question  the  acts  of  the  owners, 
but  I  should  have  been  advised  of  the  circumstances. 
However,  Mr.  Trego  was  going  to  explain.  It  may 
be  all  right  and  nothing  out  of  the  ordinary,  but  now 
that  this  has  happened  I'm  all  back,  and  I'm  left  to 
guess  what  it  all  means  if  I  can." 

"What  was  the  cargo?"  asked  Meeker. 

"Machinery,  so  far  as  the  manifest  says.  Several 

cases By  George!  He  had  it  stowed  in  the 

storeroom " 

He  was  interrupted  by  Harris  bawling  in  the  pas 
sage,  and  the  Chinese  stokers  swarming  up  the  fire- 
room  ladder,  chattering  and  yelling  to  their  mates 
below.  The  news  of  the  murder  had  spread  through 
the  ship  and  had  created  a  great  turmoil. 

The  mate  thrust  a  man  into  the  doorway,  whom  I 
recognized  as  one  of  the  men  who  had  brought 
Meeker's  organ  on  board. 

"Here's  one  of  the  new  men,  sir,"  said  Harris. 
"Says  he  has  been  for'ard  since  going  off  watch. 
He's  next  at  the  wheel,  sir." 

"Now,  then,"  began  Riggs,  with  pencil  poised, 
"what's  your  name  in  the  ship's  articles?" 


MAKES  AN  ACCUSATION  73 

-  "Buckrow,  sir,"  said  the  sailor,  staring  at  a  lamp, 
and  avoiding  the  figure  of  Trego  almost  at  his  feet. 

I  observed  him  closely,  and  was  not  pleased  with 
his  appearance.  His  large  mouth  carried  a  leering, 
insolent  expression  and  his  nose  was  broken,  hanging 
a  trifle  to  one  side.  He  was  short,  with  great  hulking 
shoulders.  His  black  shirt  was  open  at  the  neck,  and 
he  wore  blue  navy  trousers  with  the  familiar  wide 
bottoms.  His  brown  forearms  were  covered  with 
tattoo-marks. 

"Tell  all  you  may  know  which  could  throw  any 
possible  light  on  this  dreadful  affair,  that  the  guilty 
may  be  brought  to  justice  and  the  dead  avenged," 
said  Meeker. 

"Steady  as  she  goes!"  warned  Captain  Riggs. 
turning  in  his  chair  and  holding  up  his  hand.  "I'll 
ask  the  questions,  if  you  please,  Mr.  Meeker.  Now, 
then,  my  man,  where  have  you  been  in  the  last  hour? " 

"  For'ard,  turned  in,  sir,"  replied  Buckrow,  keeping 
his  eyes  on  the  flame  of  the  lamp. 

"See  this  dead  man  here?" 

"Aye,  sir." 

"No,  you  don't  —  look  at  him!  Did  you  have  a 
hand  in  this?" 

tt  No,  sir."  He  took  a  quick  glance  at  the  dead 
man  and  fastened  his  eyes  on  the  lamp  again. 

"Know  who  killed  him?" 

"No,  sir." 

*' That's  all  for  now." 


74  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

Harris  led  forward  the  tall  cockney  I  had  seen  at 
the  wheel.  He  said  his  name  was  Crannish,  and  he 
spelled  it  for  the  captain,  who  examined  the  crew  list 
to  verify  him.  He  said  that  he  was  known  as 
"Long  Jim"  by  his  mates.  He  did  not  seem  to  take 
the  murder  as  a  serious  matter,  but  answered  Cap 
tain  Riggs's  questions  calmly,  his  eyes  roving  over 
the  interior  of  the  saloon,  taking  us  all  in  very 
coolly. 

There  was  a  gleam  of  amusement  in  his  eyes  as  he 
looked  at  Meeker,  as  if  he  thought  it  a  joke  that  the 
missionary  should  be  sitting  on  an  inquiry  board. 
Meeker  returned  his  gaze  in  a  disinterested  manner, 
swaying  in  his  chair  with  the  motion  of  the  ship,  and 
fumbling  his  shell  crucifix,  as  if  it  was  a  talisman  to 
guard  him  against  danger. 

Crannish  was  dismissed,  and  the  next  was  Petrak. 
He  impudently  winked  at  me  as  he  stepped  into  the 
light,  and  hitched  up  his  trousers  in  a  nonchalant 
manner  that  was  amusing.  He  had  his  shoes  in  his 
hand,  and  he  had  evidently  dressed  in  a  hurry  to 
obey  the  summons  of  the  mate. 

"Petrak's  my  name,  sir,  and  they  make  a  joke  on 
my  head  by  making  me  out  'Dago  Red,'  sir.  Been 
bos'n  in " 

"He  was  relieved  at  eight  bells,  sir;  has  the  wheel 
in  the  Dutchman's  watch,"  explained  Harris. 

"Where  did  you  go  then?"  demanded  the  captain. 

"Turned  right  in,  sir,  after  a  bit  of  a  wash." 


MAKES  AN  ACCUSATION  75 

„  "Where  were  you  at  one  bell?"  put  in  Harris, 
giving  the  captain  a  significant  look. 

"For'ard  in  my  bunk,  sir." 

"You  lie,"  drawled  Harris  coldly.  "Ye  passed 
the  galley  ports  a  minute  or  so  after  one  bell  was 
struck.  I  saw  ye." 

"Not  me,  sir;  never  anything  like  that,  sir, 
beggin'  ye're  pardon." 

"Yes,  ye  did,  and  don't  ye  lie  to  me,"  retorted 
Harris.  "Ye  didn't  go  right  for'ard  when  ye  come 
off  watch.  I  heard  ye  yarnin'  with  Buckrow,  or 
what's  his  name,  just  after  ye  passed  the  galley.  Yer 
phiz  showed  plain  to  me  as  Cape  Cod  Light  on  a  clear 
night." 

"Where's  your  knife?"  said  Riggs  suddenly, 
leaning  forward  and  peering  at  his  belt. 

"Left  it  in  my  bunk,  sir.  Top  one,  first  to  port  as 
ye  go  down  —  right  at  the  head  it  is,  sir,  in  some 
straw." 

"  Send  a  man  for  it,  Mr.  Harris.  Is  it  in  the  sheath, 
you  Petrak?" 

"Can't  say,  sir,"  said  Petrak,  looking  about 
nervously,  and  feeling  at  his  belt. 

"Can't  say!  Can't  say!  You  can't  say  because 
that's  yer  knife  right  there  under  yer  eyes!  That's 
yer  knife  and  you  killed  this  man!" 

"Tell  the  truth,  my  good  man,"  interjected 
Meeker,  holding  up  his  hands.  "Tell  the  truth 
and " 


76  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

" Belay  1"  yelled  Riggs.  "You  speak  when  ye' re 
spoken  to,  Mr.  Meeker,  if  you  please!" 

"No  offence  intended  —  purely  involuntary  on  my 
part.  I  beg  your  pardon,  my  dear  sir." 

"That's  your  knife  and  you  killed  him,"  repeated 
Riggs  to  Petrak. 

"Never  killed  him,  sir,  and  nobody  else,  strike  me 
blind  if  I  did,  and  that's  the  truth,  sir,"  said  Petrak 
doggedly,  but  in  spite  of  his  brave  showing  there 
was  a  whimper  in  his  voice  and  his  knees  trembled. 
"Did  you  have  an  accomplice?"  asked  Meeker,  and 
I  thought  I  saw  some  sort  of  a  signal  pass  between 
them. 

Buckrow  arrived  from  the  forecastle  with  a 
leather  sheath  and  a  knife  in  it.  He  handed  it  to 
Harris. 

"There's  my  knife!"  yelled  Petrak.  "That's 
it,  just  as  I  said,  and  Bucky  found  it  in  my  bunk 
where  I  said  it  was,  strike  me  blind!" 

Captain  Riggs  was  nonplussed  for  a  second  at  this, 
and  he  hesitated.  Then  he  looked  at  Buckrow,  who 
was  trying  to  get  past  Harris  into  the  passage  again. 

"Buckrow!  Wait  a  minute,  my  man!  Where's 
your  knife?" 

"My  knife?"  said  Buckrow  in  amazement. 
"My  knife?" 

"Yes,  the  knife  you  had  when  you  were  here  first. 
Where  is  it  now?  It  ain't  in  your  belt." 

Buckrow  reached  to  his  hip,   and  consternation 


MAKES  AN  ACCUSATION  77 

pulled  his  face  into  varying  expressions  as  he  found  his 
sheath  empty.  But  we  knew  his  astonishment  was 
simulated. 

"Damme  if  it  hain't  gone!  Some  of  them  cussed 
chinks  must  'ave  a  tooken  it.  It  was " 

"That's  all  very  well,  "  said  Riggs.  "The  red 
headed  one  is  our  man." 

"Where's  that  bleedin'  knife?"  said  Buckrow, 
fumbling  at  his  belt. 

"Never  mind  that,"  put  in  Riggs.  "That's  your 
knife  there  in  the  red  fellow's  sheath,  and  this  is 
settled  until  it  is  turned  over  to  the  judge.  Put 
this  man  Petrak,  or  whatever  his  name  is,  in  irons, 
Mr.  Harris;  and  you,  Buckrow,  you  know  more  than 
you'll  tell.  Mind  what  you're  about  or  you'll  be 
clapped  in  irons,  too,  along  with  your  mate  here. 
Have  the  body  wrapped  with  some  firebars,  Mr. 
Harris,  to  be  buried  in  the  morning.  That's  all. 
Double  irons,  Mr.  Harris." 

"I  never  done  for  him,  and  that  gent  knows  it," 
wailed  Petrak,  as  Harris  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder 
to  take  him  away.  To  my  amazement,  Petrak 
pointed  his  finger  at  me. 

"What's  that?"  said  Riggs  sharply. 

"Tell  all  you  know,  my  good  man,"  said  Meeker 
despite  the  caution  Riggs  had  given  him  about  inter 
fering. 

"The  gent  in  the  white  suit  knows  all  about  it. 
I  done  for  this  chap,  and  the  writin'  chap,  that  I 


78  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

brought  his  bag  aboard,  paid  me  for  it.  Said  he 
would,  and  gave  me  some  of  the  money  on  deck 
to-day.  You  saw  him,  cap'n  —  you  saw  him  hand- 
in'  me  the  silver,  sir.  He's  in  it,  too,  and " 

"Why,  my  dear  Mr.  Trenholm!"  exclaimed 
Meeker,  getting  to  his  feet,  aghast  at  the  accusation 
of  the  little  red-headed  man.  "My  dear  sir,  I 
could  hardly  believe  such  a  thing  of  you!  And  we 
dined  with  you " 

"Here,  you  hold  up,"  shouted  Riggs.  "What 
does  this  mean,  Mr.  Trenholm?  I  remember  now 
that  I  did  see  this  man  taking  money  from  you  and 
I  told  you  not  to  be  tipping  the  crew.  What  have 
you  to  say?" 

"He  was  to  give  me  ten  pound " 

"Shut  up!"  roared  Harris  to  Petrak. 

"What  have  I  to  say?"  I  gasped,  astounded  at 
the  turn  of  affairs  and  hardly  able  to  believe  what  I 
heard  from  Petrak.  "I  know  nothing  about  it! 
The  man  must  be  crazy!" 

"I  am  not  so  sure  of  that,"  retorted  Riggs.  'I 
must  confess,  Mr.  Trenholm,  that  I  was  somewhat 
surprised  to  find  that  you  carried  two  pistols,  and  you 
must  admit  that  you  brought  this  man  on  board 
with  you.  You  seem  to  know  him." 

"  Know  him !  The  little  rat  has  been  following  me 
about  Manila  all  day!  I  thought  I  was  to  be  rid  of 
him  until  you  took  him  as  a  member  of  the  crew  — — 

"Ten  pound  I  was  to  get  for  a  killin'  of  that  chap 


MAKES  AN  ACCUSATION          79 

there,"  shrieked  Petrak.  "That's  what  he  was 
passing  me  the  silver  for  this  day,  sir.  They'll  hang 
me  now  —  they'll  hang  me!" 

"It  looks  very  awkward  for  you,  Mr.  Trenholm," 
said  Meeker,  sadly. 

I  was  about  to  denounce  the  missionary  and  tell 
him  how  I  had  seen  him  and  Petrak  together  much  in 
Manila,  but  I  was  so  angry  for  a  minute  that  I 
thought  it  better  to  hold  myself  in  check  for  the  time. 

I  stood  before  them  for  a  few  seconds,  wondering 
what  I  should  do,  and  then  my  rage  got  possession  of 
me,  and  I  reached  for  a  pistol,  intending  to  hold 
Meeker  under  the  muzzle  of  it  and  make  him  confess 
his  true  character  and  admit  that  Petrak  was  his 
friend  rather  than  mine. 

As  I  threw  my  hand  back,  my  wrist  was  seized 
and  I  turned  to  see  Rajah  behind  me,  holding  my 
arm  in  a  firm  grip.  He  menaced  me  with  his  kris 
and  grinned  calmly. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Trenholm,"  said  Meeker,  smiling 
blandly.  "One  crime  should  serve  your  purpose  for 
this  evening,  it  seems  to  me." 

Captain  Riggs  stepped  up  and  relieved  me  of  my 
pistols,  and  I  knew  that  I  had  made  a  fool  of  myself 
by  attempting  to  draw  the  weapon. 

"  I  am  very  sorry  about  this,  Mr.  Trenholm,"  said 
the  captain. 


CHAPTER  VII 

I    TURN    SPY    MYSELF 

MEEKER    stood    with    folded    arms    and 
grinned   at   me   as   he    saw    my    pistols 
taken  by  the  captain;  and  for  the  first 
time  since  I  had  seen  him  he  dropped  his  sanctimo 
nious  pose  and  looked  anything  but  the  decrepit  old 
missionary    which    he    had     always    seemed.     His 
shoulders  were  squared  and  his  head  thrown  back, 
and  there  was  mockery  in  his  eyes. 

But  it  was  not  so  much  his  insolent  and  trium 
phant  look  which  took  my  attention  as  the  manner 
in  which  he  stood  upon  the  heaving  deck  of  the 
saloon;  his  knees  had  that  limp  sea-bend  of  the  sailor 
and  his  out-turned  toes  seemed  to  grasp  the  uncertain 
rise  and  fall  of  the  carpet  beneath  his  feet;  he  was  a 
mariner  now,  not  a  preacher,  for  no  landsman  could 
hold  himself  so  easily  in  a  vessel  which  pitched  and 
rolled  in  the  long  swells  of  the  China  Sea. 

I  looked  at  him  defiantly,  and  his  eyes  seemed  to 
dare  me  to  speak  out  and  say  the  things  which  were 
in  my  mind.  He  seemed  to  understand  that  I  was 
trying  to  frame  a  denunciation,  for  I  was  white  to 
the  lips  with  rage  at  him. 

80 


I  TURN  SPY  MYSELF  81 

"You  seemed  determined  to  sail  in  the  Kut  Sang, 
Mr.  Trenholm,"  he  said:  "So  your  insistence  to  be 
a  passenger  was  to  slay  a  fellow-man,  was  it?  I 
am  shocked  beyond  measure!" 

"You  hound!"  I  screamed.  "You  have  played 
your  cards  well,  you  and  your  little  red-headed 
scoundrel!  If  you  think  I  am  a  spy  you  will 
find " 

"Tut,  tut,  Sally  Ann!"  said  Captain  Riggs. 
"We  can't  have  any  of  that.  Hold  your  tongue,  sir, 
or  I'll  have  you  in  irons." 

"If  you'll  give  me  ten  minutes  privately,  cap 
tain,  I'll  tell  you  who  this  devil " 

"I'm  a  man  of  the  cloth,  and  I  will  not  counte 
nance  such  language!"  shrieked  Meeker  in  an  attempt 
to  check  me;  but  I  could  see  that  I  had  cut  him 
deeply,  for  he  whitened  and  stepped  toward  me  with 
closed  fist.  "Don't  you  call  me  devil!  You  know 
nothing  of  me  —  tell  it  if  you  will  —  what  do  you 
know?  Where  did  you  get  that  name?" 

"Gentlemen!  Gentlemen!"  said  Riggs,  still  hold 
ing  one  of  my  pistols  in  his  hand,  and  keeping  an  eye 
on  the  bulkhead  door  for  the  return  of  the  mate. 

"He's  a  Japanese  spy,"  I  said.  "He's  no  mis 
sionary  at  all,  but  a  spy,  and  the  fool  believes  that  I 
am  in  the  Russian  service.  He  tried  to  hold  me  in 
Manila,  and  when  I  would  not  listen  to  his  lies  he 
has  taken  this  way  to  discredit  me,  probably  have 
me  hanged!  It's  all  a  plot " 


82  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"That  will  do,"  commanded  Riggs.  "You  have 
not  been  tried  yet,  Mr.  Trenholm.  You  can  tell 
all  that  to  the  judge.  If  you  go  on  this  way  I  will 
be  compelled  to  make  a  prisoner  of  you.  I  am  not 
taking  that  red  chap's  word  for  what  he  says  about 
you,  but  if  you  go  on  like  this  I  will  have  to  put  you 
in  confinement.  Otherwise,  you  will  simply  be  re 
stricted  to  your  cabin  until  we  reach  Hong-Kong. 
I  will  have  to  make  sure  that  you  have  no  more 
arms,  and  if  you  will  promise  to  remain  in  your  room, 
that  will  do  until  this  matter  is  turned  over  to  the 
courts,  and  then  you  may  state  your  case." 

"Are  you  not  going  to  put  this  man  where  he  can 
do  no  more  harm?"  asked  Meeker.  "You  can  see 
for  yourself  that  my  life  will  be  in  danger  unless  this 
man  is  made  a  prisoner.  I  protest  against  his  being 
allowed  his  liberty  —  I  have  no  desire  to  be  found  in 
my  bed  as  poor  Mr.  Trego  was  found  here  a  few 
minutes  ago." 

"You  will  be  protected,"  said  the  captain.  "Mr. 
Harris,  is  that  you?  Take  Mr.  Trenholm  here  to 
his  room,  and  remove  all  his  luggage  and  see  that  he 
has  no  more  arms,  even  so  much  as  a  pocket-knife. 
Then  lock  him  in  his  room." 

"  I  protest  against  such  treatment,  Captain  Riggs. 
If  you  will  give  me  ten  minutes  so  that  I  may  tell  my 
story  I  will  willingly  obey  any  order  you  may  give, 
even  to  becoming  a  prisoner  in  my  room;  but  I  think 
that  it  will  be  better  for  you  to  know  the  facts  about 


I  TURN  SPY  MYSELF  83 

this  case,  and  what  I  have  learned  about  this  Mr. 
Meeker  in  Manila. 

"And  what  is  it  you  have  learned?"  cried  Meeker, 
advancing  on  me  again  in  a  menacing  manner,  and 
plainly  surprised  at  what  I  had  said. 

"A  few  things  about  you  and  Petrak  that  Captain 
Riggs  should  know,"  I  retorted. 

"Mr.  Harris,  take  Mr.  Trenholm  to  his  room,"  and 
the  mate  took  me  by  the  arm  and  led  me  down 
the  passage.  As  I  went  out  Meeker  grinned  after 
me  and  whispered  something  to  Captain  Riggs  be 
hind  his  hand. 

Harris  opened  the  door  and  thrust  me  before 
him  into  the  dark  stateroom  and  commanded  me 
to  light  the  gimbal-lamp,  passing  me  a  match. 
When  I  had  the  lamp  lit  he  took  a  quick  glance 
inside. 

"That  man  Meeker  is  a  spy,"  I  began.  "It  was 
for  him  that  Petrak  killed  Trego,  and  all  day  in 
Manila  he  and  that  little  fellow  were  at  my  heels 

"Stow  that,"  said  Harris.  "Take  what  you  need 
out  of  yer  gear,  and  hand  the  rest  of  it  out,  and  mind 
that  thar's  no  gun-play  about  it.  I'm  well  heeled, 
and  if  ye  make  a  move  I'll  let  daylight  through 
yer  innards.  Look  lively  now." 

I  took  a  pair  of  pajamas  and  a  few  toilet-articles 
from  my  bag.  He  would  not  let  me  have  my  razors, 
or  any  of  the  packets  of  papers  or  my  money  belt. 
When  he  had  taken  my  grip  he  demanded  my  clothes, 


84  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

and  left  me  in  my  pajamas  and  locked  the  door,  with 
a  growl  of  caution  about  monkey-business. 

"We  hain't  takin'  no  chances  with  gents  like  ye 
be,"  he  said.  "And  mind  that  ye  stick  close  here, 
'cause  we've  got  a  watch  outside,  and  the  first  time 
we  ketch  ye  up  to  any  didoes  we'll  have  ye  below 
with  brass  bracelets  on  with  yer  pal  Petrak,  where 
ye  belong." 

At  this  he  slammed  the  heavy  oak  door  and  turned 
the  key  in  the  lock. 

My  first  emotions  were  anger  and  the  sense  of 
humiliation.  I  was  beaten,  outwitted,  captured  by 
Meeker,  and  by  my  own  stupidity.  But  I  realized 
that  the  battle  had  but  just  begun,  and  my  first  task 
must  be  to  attempt  some  defence,  some  counter  move 
against  the  old  fraud  who  had  drawn  his  plot  about 
me  for  his  own  mysterious  object. 

I  berated  myself  for  my  conceit  in  imagining  that  I 
could  play  with  such  a  dangerous  man  as  Meeker 
proved  himself  to  be,  especially  since  I  had  seen 
through  his  disguise  almost  from  the  first.  One 
of  two  things  in  Manila  would  have  saved  me  from 
my  position  —  either  I  should  have  told  Meeker  at 
once  that  he  was  mistaken  in  thinking  me  a  spy  and 
warned  him  to  keep  clear  of  me,  or  I  should  have  told 
the  police  that  I  was  being  annoyed  by  a  suspicious 
character.  I  had  had  grounds  enough  for  making  a 
complaint  against  Meeker  and  Petrak  when  I  found 
the  little  red-headed  man  sneaking  outside  my  door 


I  TURN  SPY  MYSELF  85 

in  the  hotel,  and  the  supposed  missionary  blocking 
my  pursuit  on  the  stairway. 

Even  if  the  police  had  given  me  no  satisfaction,  I 
could  have  warned  Meeker  that  I  would  not  submit 
to  his  espionage  —  a  hundred  ways  of  protecting 
myself  from  the  fellow  came  into  my  mind  as  I  sat 
there  on  my  berth  and  reviewed  what  had  taken 
place  in  Manila  before  I  ever  went  on  board  the 
Kut  Sang. 

But  that  was  all  past,  and  it  did  me  no  good  to  go 
over  the  mistakes  I  had  made.  I  was  bitter  at  my 
self  for  allowing  Petrak  to  bring  my  bag  on  board, 
for  I  had  thus  given  him  an  opportunity  to  claim  me 
as  an  ally  in  the  murder. 

The  best  that  I  could  make  of  the  whole  affair 
was  that  Meeker  took  me  for  a  spy,  as  I  had  sus 
pected  from  the  first,  and  in  order  to  prevent  me 
from  going  to  Hong-Kong  for  some  purpose  opposed 
to  the  plans  of  his  masters,  had  done  his  best  to  keep 
me  out  of  the  steamer. 

Then,  when  he  found  that  he  could  not  block  me 
in  going,  he  did  the  next  best  thing  and  came  with  me. 
To  further  embarrass  me  and  prevent  me  from  accom 
plishing  the  object  of  my  supposed  mission  in  Hong- 
Kong,  he  had  got  me  involved  in  a  crime  from  which  I 
knew  I  would  have  a  great  deal  of  difficulty  in  getting 
myself  free,  especially  as  Petrak  seemed  willing 
enough  to  testify  against  me  even  though  he  should 
hang  for  the  murder. 


86  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

It  seemed  beyond  reason  that  they  should  kill 
Trego  simply  to  have  something  of  which  I  might  be 
accused;  it  seemed  to  me  that  my  own  death  would 
have  been  an  easier  way  to  get  rid  of  me. 

I  began  an  analysis  of  every  event  which  entered 
into  the  total  of  the  mystery,  seeking  for  some  key 
which  would  aid  me  in  assorting  the  tangled  bits 
that  only  needed  to  be  arranged  properly  to  get  the 
solution,  much  as  a  jig-saw  puzzle  is  worked  out. 
If  I  had  a  proper  beginning  it  would  all  be  easy 
enough. 

The  killing  of  the  boatswain  in  the  Flagship  Bai 
seemed  significant,  although  I  could  not  connect  it 
with  Meeker's  plot  against  me,  and  I  had  to  lay  that 
episode  aside  until  I  saw  it  in  its  proper  relation  to 
the  other  parts. 

Standing  near  the  lamp,  I  wrote  down  on  a  scrap 
of  paper  each  event  in  its  proper  order,  from  my 
first  sight  of  Meeker  that  morning  as  I  arrived  at  the 
mole  from  Saigon.  When  I  had  made  a  note  of  the 
delivery  of  the  letter  to  the  Russian  consul  at  the 
bank,  I  found  Trego  and  Meeker  together  —  the 
spy  disguised  as  a  missionary  seeking  alms,  and  Trego 
driving  him  out  of  the  room. 

It  was  obvious  enough  to  me  that  in  delivering  the 
letter  I  had  walked  into  some  sort  of  a  plot  of  which 
I  had  no  knowledge,  for  Meeker  was  not  only  spying 
upon  me,  but  he  was  spying  upon  Trego  or  the  bank. 

The  next  time  that  Trego  entered  the  list  was  when 


I  TURN  SPY  MYSELF  87 

I  was  introduced  to  him  in  the  bank,  of  little  impor 
tance  in  itself,  but  worth  a  great  deal  when  connected 
with  the  fact  that  Trego  left  Manila  in  the  Kut  Sang 
and  in  charge  of  the  ship,  to  the  amazement  of  even 
Captain  Riggs. 

"Trego  killed."  As  I  put  that  down  it  flashed  upon 
me  that  he  had  been  struck  down  before  he  had  told 
Captain  Riggs  why  he  had  papers  as  supercargo  — 
and  a  few  minutes  after  he  had  shown  that  he  was 
suspicious  of  Meeker! 

I  was  baffled  and  realized  that  it  was  a  waste  of 
effort  to  attempt  to  theorize  about  the  snarled  web 
in  which  I  found  myself  enmeshed.  One  thing  was 
apparent  enough,  and  that  was  Meeker  did  his  best 
to  keep  me  out  of  the  Kut  Sang,  as  he  said,  and  I 
reached  the  conclusion  that  it  was  not  me  so  much  as 
the  steamer  which  concerned  him  when  he  sought  to 
divert  my  path  from  the  vessel.  If  I  had  taken  his 
broad  hints  in  Manila  I  would  have  cancelled  my 
ticket  and  probably  never  seen  him  again. 

There  was  little  comfort  in  proving  that  my  own 
blunder  had  led  me  into  such  a  mess.  I  threw  the 
pencil  down  and  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  lower  berth. 
My  anger  was  giving  way  to  alarm.  I  began  to 
realize  that  perhaps  being  a  prisoner  was  the  safest 
for  me  while  on  the  steamer,  for  if  Meeker  had  brought 
about  the  death  of  Trego  because  the  supercargo  sus 
pected  him,  why  should  he  not  attempt  to  kill  me 
after  what  I  had  said  about  him  to  Captain  Riggs  ? 


88  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

I  remembered  that  he  had  shown  concern  when  I 
offered  to  tell  Riggs  about  him  —  he  was  ready  to 
strike  me  down  on  the  spot,  and  his  plea  that  I  might 
attack  him  was  made  more  for  the  purpose  of  having 
me  put  out  of  reach  of  the  captain  than  for  his  own 
protection.  I  was  still  a  passenger,  even  though  con 
fined  to  my  room,  and  he  knew  that  I  might  find  an 
opportunity  to  tell  my  story  to  Riggs. 

At  least  I  was  safe  for  the  night,  and  I  knew  noth 
ing  could  be  done  in  the  way  of  explaining  things  to 
Riggs  before  morning.  I  decided  that  I  would  ask 
for  paper  and  write  a  brief  account  of  Meeker  and 
Petrak  for  him  and  let  him  judge  for  himself. 

I  blew  out  the  lamp  and  opened  the  port,  but 
hooked  it  so  that  the  heavy  brass-rimmed  glass  acted 
as  a  shield  for  me  as  I  lay  in  the  upper  berth.  I 
had  no  desire  to  have  a  pistol  thrust  through  the 
port  while  I  was  asleep,  and  after  what  had  happened 
I  was  ready  to  see  danger  in  anything. 

The  steamer  was  well  to  sea,  and  there  was  a  stiff 
breeze  blowing,  which  made  her  pitch  and  roll 
heavily.  Her  beams  and  joints  groaned  every  time 
she  bucked  into  a  sea,  and  the  wash  at  her  freeboard 
and  the  spray  breaking  on  the  deck  outside  made  a 
great  racket.  Her  old  engines  jolted  and  jarred  and 
vibrated  every  inch  of  the  Kut  Sang,  and  I  could  hear 
the  whir  of  the  propeller  as  it  lifted  out  of  the  water 
when  her  head  plunged  into  a  swell. 

But  although  I  tried  to  put  everything  out  of  my 


I  TURN  SPY  MYSELF  89 

mind  and  get  some  sleep,  my  imagination  conjured 
up  possible  situations  for  the  next  day  —  confer 
ences  with  Captain  Riggs,  fights  with  Meeker,  a 
confession  forced  from  Petrak  that  he  had  lied  when 
he  charged  me  with  complicity  in  the  murder. 

I  tumbled  and  tossed  in  my  berth  and  counted  a 
million  sheep  jumping  a  fence,  worked  at  the  multi 
plication  table,  and  resorted  to  other  devices  to  get 
into  a  doze,  but  every  new  creak,  every  groan  of  the 
straining  timbers,  kept  me  wide  awake. 

One  of  the  most  irritating  noises  was  the  grating 
of  some  object  hanging  on  the  bulkhead  close  to  my 
head.  I  could  not  hear  it  when  the  vessel  pitched, 
but  when  she  took  a  long  roll  to  starboard  it  rattled 
a  second  and  then  rasped  along  the  board.  Locating 
the  sound  in  the  dark,  I  groped  along  the  planks  to 
find  the  loose  object,  and  my  fingers  came  upon  a 
small  metal  rod.  I  seized  it  and  lifted  it  from  a 
hook,  and  with  the  tips  of  my  fingers  found  it  to  be 
a  key! 

Bounding  out  of  my  berth,  I  went  to  the  door  with 
it,  certain  that  it  was  a  spare  key  to  the  stateroom. 
Cautiously  I  tried  it  in  the  large,  old-fashioned  lock, 
and  it  turned  back  easily.  I  tried  the  knob,  and  the 
door  swung  inward. 

I  closed  it  again  and  debated  for  a  minute  what  I 
should  do,  and,  deciding  that  anything  could  not  be 
worse  than  lying  idle  in  a  cell,  made  up  my  mind  to 
Denture  out  and  call  upon  Captain  Riggs  if  I  could 


90  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

find  him,  or  do  a  little  spying  on  my  own  account  to 
learn  of  any  new  development  since  I  had  been  dis 
missed  from  the  saloon  and  imprisoned. 

I  held  the  door  open  a  few  inches  for  several 
minutes  and  listened  for  some  suspicious  sound  in  the 
dark  passageway.  I  remembered  that  Harris  had 
said  something  about  a  guard  at  the  door,  but  al 
though  I  strained  my  eyes,  in  the  darkness  I  could 
see  no  one.  Each  end  of  the  passage  was  capped 
by  a  penumbra  of  dim  light,  for  although  the  sky  was 
overcast,  the  open  air  was  not  so  dark  as  the  inten 
sified  gloom  of  the  passage. 

My  courage  grew  as  I  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  I 
stepped  out,  closing  the  door  silently  and  not  locking 
it,  but  knotting  the  key  in  the  string  of  my  pajamas. 

I  listened  for  a  minute  at  Meeker's  door  but  heard 
nothing.  His  room  was  next  to  mine,  but  further 
aft,  with  one  or  more  doors  between  his  and  where 
the  passage  gave  on  the  open  after-deck,  Captain 
Rigg's  room  was  on  the  same  side,  but  away  forward, 
under  the  end  of  the  bridge,  close  to  the  open  ladder 
which  led  down  to  the  fore-deck. 

In  my  bare  feet  I  made  no  noise,  and  slowly 
made  my  way  forward  to  see  if  there  was  a  light  in 
Captain  Riggs's  room.  Before  I  had  gone  far  I 
heard  a  murmur  of  voices,  and  then  saw  a  sliver  of 
light  from  the  jamb  of  a  door.  There  was  a  conver 
sation  going  on  in  the  captain's  room,  but  I  could  not 
distinguish  the  voices.  I  went  on  to  the  forward  end 


I  TURN  SPY  MYSELF  91 

of  the  superstructure  and  discovered  a  port-hole  in 
the  captain's  cabin  partly  open,  and  by  going  up 
three  steps  of  the  bridge-ladder  I  had  a  partial  view 
of  the  room. 

Captain  Riggs  was  fully  dressed,  and  sat  at  a  shelf 
which  dropped  from  the  wall.  He  was  sorting  out 
papers,  and  Harris,  the  mate,  was  standing  over  him, 
talking. 

"You  must  be  mistaken,  Mr.  Harris,"  I  heard  the 
captain  say. 

"Make  me  third  cook  if  I  be!"  exclaimed  Harris, 
who  seemed  to  be  in  an  irritable  mood.  "I  know 
what  I'm  talking  about,  cap'n!  I  run  my  thumb 
nail  along  the  edges  of  it." 

"Sally  Ann's  black  cat,  Mr.  Harris!" 

"All  I  ask  ye  to  do,  cap'n,  is  come  down  and  have 
a  look  at  it  for  yerself.  That's  what  this  is  all  about 
I'm  tellin'  ye!  We  got  somethin'  on  our  hands,  I  tell 
ye!  We've  got  to  do  somethin'  about  it  right  away 
or  we'll  have  more  trouble.  What  if  the  crew  smells 
a  rat?" 

"You  got  a  little  too  excited  about  that  murder, 
Mr.  Harris.  I'd  know  all  about  that.  The  owners 
wouldn't  send  me  to  sea  with  such  as  you  say,  and 
say  nothing  to  me,  nor  the  charter  party,  either. 
They'd  use  a  liner  and  about  forty  men  for  anything 
like  that.  I'm  crazy  enough  now,  what  with  this 
murder  and  mess,  without  getting  myself  stirred  up 
over  anything  like  that.  You  better  get  some 


92  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

sleep.  We'll  find  in  the  morning  that  you  made  a 
mistake." 

"But  I  had  a  light  on  it!"  insisted  Harris.  "It's 
thar,  I  tell  ye,  and  I  made  sure.  I  don't  come  both- 
erin'  of  ye  with  no  cock-and-bull  story  like  this  unless 
I  know.  I  held  a  bull's-eye  light  on  it  and  it  showed 
plain  as  Cape  Cod  Light.  One  of  them  chists  got 
sprung,  and  I  thought  maybe  I'd  made  a  mistake 
when  I  put  the  light  on  it,  but  when  I  rubbed  my 
thumbnail  on  it  I  knew  I  was  right.  I  know  the 
feel,  I  tell  ye.  Every  cussed  one  of  'em  is  the  same, 
too." 

"I  tell  you,  Mr.  Harris,  I've  had  tomfoolery 
enough  for  one  night,  and  I  ain't  going  down  in  the 
hold  and  dig  around  in  cargo  and  get  the  crew  sus 
picious.  They  are  stirred  up  enough  as  it  is  with 
what's  gone  on  to-night,  and  I  guess  that's  what  ails 
you." 

"Cuss  it  all,  Cap'n  Riggs!"  exclaimed  Harris  in 
exasperation.  "Ye  ought  to  know  I  don't  get  gal- 
lied  for  a  little  blood  spilled.  I  slep'  in  a  bunk  all 
one  night  in  the  Martha  Pillsbury  with  a  man  what 
didn't  have  any  head  and  never  turned  a  hair.  Ye 
know  that  old  barkentine  whaler  that  Cap'n  Pea- 
body  sold.  Dang  it  all,  cap'n,  that  is  what  this  man 
Trego  come  aboard  as  he  did  —  that's  what  he  was 
here  fer.  It  come  down  at  the  last  minute  and  he 
bossed  the  job  of  gettin'  it  aboard. 

"Wouldn't  let  a  man  touch  it,  but  had  his  own 


I  TURN  SPY  MYSELF  93 

chinks  from  shore-side  get  it  aboard  with  slings  from 
the  davits,  and  watched  'em  stow  it  in  the  storeroom. 
It  ain't  in  the  hold.  When  I  come  across  the  key  to 
the  room  I  made  up  my  mind  I'd  have  a  look  at  it. 
Tinned  milk!  Marked  tinned  milk!  I  say  tinned 
milk  hell!  I  wash  my  hands  o'  the  whole  cussed 
mess  if  ye  don't  look  at  it  and  see  for  yerself. 

"I  don't  want  the  responsibility,  and  we've  got  to 
take  some  precaution.  That's  what  the  killin'  was 
for,  and  I'll  bet  a  clipper-ship  to  a  doughnut-hole 
that  writin'  chap  Trenhum  knows  about  it,  and  he 
ain't  no  writin'  chap,  neither.  Thar  has  been  bad 
business,  and  there'll  be  more  from  what's  below, 
mark  my  words.  Come  below  and  look  at  it." 

"You  looked  it  over  in  good  shape  with  a  light," 
said  Captain  Riggs,  evidently  in  doubt  as  to  what  he 
should  do.  "It  ought  to  be  on  the  manifest,  you 
know,  Mr.  Harris." 

"Cuss  the  manifest!  It's  down  as  machinery  and 
marked  tinned  milk.  What  more  ye  want?  They 
got  things  switched  somehow,  and  that's  plain  as 
the  nose  on  yer  face.  I  had  my  thumb  on  it,  I  tell 
ye." 

"Then,  if  that  is  true,  it  explains  why  Mr.  Trego 
was  so  mysterious,  and  why  he  wanted  to  be  a  pas 
senger  to  the  others.  That's  what  he  was  aboard  for, 
right  enough,  and  like  as  not  he  would  have  told  me 
if  he  had  been  left  alive  long  enough.  It  don't 
strike  me  reasonable  that  he'd  keep  anything  like 


94  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

that  from  me  —  not  with  the  way  things  are  going 
these  days.  The  master  of  the  vessel  ought  to 
know  in  a  case  like  that,  and  a  scraped-up  crew." 
Riggs  began  to  button  his  coat. 

"Of  course  that  was  what  he  was  so  close-jawed 
for,  and  that's  why  the  owners  was  so  close-jawed. 
Like  as  not  they  didn't  know  —  charter  was  for 
cargo,  and  they  didn't  bother  their  head  about 
that  part  of  it.  Some  sort  of  a  sneak  game  about 
it,  of  course,  but  we've  got  to  mind  our  P's  and  Q's 
now. 

"The  owners  nor  the  charter  party  can't  help  us 
none  with  it  now,  say  I,  and  as  master  ye' re  got  to  do 
as  ye  see  fit.  All  this  monkey-business  to-night 
comes  from  it.  I  don't  like  the  passengers  and  I 
don't  like  these  new  whites  in  the  crew.  They 
know  one  another,  I'm  tellin'  ye.  The  long  chap 
and  Buckrow  sailed  with  Petrak.  They  pretend 
they  don't  know  one  another  —  all  bosh  —  thick 
as  fleas  when  no  one  is  a  watchin'  of  'em. 

"See  how  Buckrow  was  so  smart  handin'  over  his 
knife  to  the  red  chap  when  he  got  in  a  jam?  I  say, 
where  did  we  git  them  three  jewels  —  the  writin' 
chap  brought  the  little  red  killer,  and  the  parson 
brought  the  long  fellow  and  Buckrow.  Looks  funny 
to  me,  cap'n  —  and  we  don't  want  no  Devil's  Ad 
miral  aboard  of  us." 

"Mr.  Harris!"  exclaimed  Captain  Riggs  getting 
to  his  feet,  "you  are  not  fool  enough  to  believe  stories 


I  TURN  SPY  MYSELF  95 

about  the  Devil's  Admiral,  are  you?  That's  all 
newspaper  talk  and  water-front  gossip." 

"I  ain't  so  doggone  sure  about  that,  cap'n  — 
bein'  gossip.  Of  course,  I  don't  suspect  nothin' 
like  that  aboard  here,  but  from  what  Chips  Akers 
told  me  before  he  died,  after  the  loss  of  the  Southern 
Cross,  I'm  not  so  sure  this  devil's-admiral  talk  is  all 
folderol.  Chips  couldn't  tell  much  before  he  went 
under,  but  the  Southern  Cross  was  boarded  by  the 
Devil's  Admiral  sure  enough  —  didn't  they  find  a 
sextant  out  of  her  in  a  store  in  Shanghai? 

"  Ships  that  go  down  in  typhoons  don't  have  their 
chronometers  pop  up  in  Shanghai  a  year  later,  I'm 
tellin'  ye.  There  ain't  nobody  ever  saw  this  here 
Devil's  Admiral,  sure  enough,  that  lived  to  tell  it, 
but  ships  don't  always  go  down  in  deep  water  and 
never  a  boat  got  off  or  a  life-preserver  or  a  spar  or  a 
door  found  on  the  beach. 

"Thar's  been  bloody  work  in  the  last  three  or 
four  years  in  these  waters  —  look  at  the  Legaspi; 
never  a  man  jack  out  of  her,  and  sailed  from  Manila, 
as  we  did,  for  Hong-Kong,  and  never  heard  of. 
Steamer  she  was,  too,  right  in  the  steamer-lanes. 
They  say  the  Devil's  Admiral  got  her,  and  I  more'n 
half  believe  it." 

"Sally  Ann!  Sally  Ann!"  said  Captain  Riggs. 
"  I  guess  I  better  go  down,  Mr.  Harris,  and  look  this 
thing  over  and  get  it  off  yer  mind,  or  ye'll  be  fretting 
yerself  and  losing  sleep  with  such  yarns  running  wild 


96  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

in  yer  top-piece.  I  don't  like  this  night  prowling  a 
mite,  but  take  the  bull's-eye  along,  and  never  a  bit 
of  light  until  we  are  in  the  storeroom. 

"  I  don't  want  the  crew  hugging  our  heels  on  this 
trip  below,  'cause  ye  may  be  right  about  it,  at  that. 
Be  sure  the  slide  is  shut  in  that  lantern,  and  call  the 
boy  to  watch  for  us.  Be  sure  that  glim  is  doused  — 
I  don't  want  anybody  to  know  about  this." 

I  slipped  off  the  ladder  and  clung  to  the  super 
structure  out  of  the  range  of  the  light  which  spurted 
from  the  open  door  as  Harris  came  out.  He  went 
aft  for  Rajah,  and  when  he  returned  in  a  minute 
Captain  Riggs  was  standing  at  the  head  of  the  fore- 
deck  ladder  waiting  for  them.  Harris  whispered 
something,  and  I  saw  the  three  figures  descend  to  the 
fore-deck  and  heard  them  enter  the  companionway 
to  the  lower  deck.  I  followed  them. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

MR.    HARRIS    HAS   A    FEW    IDEAS 

CLUTCHING  the  iron  hand-rail  of  the  ladder 
leading  to  the  fore-deck,  I  went  down  as 
quickly  as  I  could.  For  half  a  minute  I 
stood  on  the  wet  plates  of  the  deck,  drenched  by  the 
spray  which  swept  the  head  of  the  vessel  every 
time  she  lurched  forward  into  the  seas.  Above  me 
I  could  make  out  the  dim  shape  of  the  bridge  and 
superstructure,  and  I  could  hear  the  wind  slatting 
the  storm-apron  lashed  along  the  bridge-rail  and 
the  singing  of  the  funnel-stays,  but  it  was  so  black 
overhead  that  I  could  not  distinguish  any  figure 
on  the  bridge. 

The  forecastle-head  could  barely  be  made  out, 
and  the  winch-wheels  and  ventilators  on  deck  were 
inchoate  masses  which  took  shape  only  when  they 
were  within  reach.  The  green  starboard-light  threw 
a  sickly  glare  over  the  surges  which  rose  to  the  rail. 
I  had  to  fe^l  my  way  along  and  not  release  my 
grip  until  I  had  found  a  hold  on  something  else. 

If  it  was  dark  on  deck,  the  appalling  gloom  below 
was  terrifying,  rix  nothing  seemed  stable  —  there 
were  times  whtl  .  '-took  tke  bulkhead  for  the 

97 


98  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

deck,  when  the  vessel  took  a  long  roll  and  laboured 
to  right  herself. 

I  found  myself  in  a  maze  of  stanchions  below, 
and  after  I  had  passed  under  the  hood  of  the 
companionway  lost  my  bearings  for  a  time,  until 
I  discovered  that  I  had  to  turn  aft  to  make  any 
progress.  Everything  seemed  to  be  making  as 
much  of  a  clatter  as  possible  between  decks,  and 
I  seemed  to  be  directly  over  the  engines.  Fire- 
doors  were  clanging  close  at  hand,  and  the  Chinese 
firemen  were  bawling  behind  a  bulkhead;  so  my 
difficulty  was  not  so  much  to  keep  silent  myself 
as  to  recognize  sounds  which  would  give  me  a  clue 
as  to  where  Captain  Riggs  and  the  others  had  gone. 

For  a  time  I  was  on  the  point  of  getting  back  to 
the  deck  above,  for  it  was  a  foolhardy  business  with 
nothing  to  gain  that  I  could  see,  and  no  end  of 
trouble  if  I  should  be  caught  stalking  Captain  Riggs 
on  his  mysterious  expedition  to  the  storeroom.  My 
silk  pajamas,  now  thoroughly  wet,  clung  to  me, 
and  the  salt  water  began  to  sting,  and  my  wet 
stockings  were  sticky  and  uncomfortable  and  formed 
bunches  under  my  toes,  but  I  kept  them  on  for  the 
little  protection  they  afforded  my  feet. 

But  I  kept  crawling  aft  until  I  came  squarely 
against  a  solid  wall,  and  knew  it  for  the  bulkhead 
of  the  forward  part  of  the  superstructure.  As  I 
was  in  some  sort  of  a  passage,  it  must  lead  to  a  door, 
and  I  fumbled  to  find  its  outlines. 


MR.  HARRIS  HAS  A  FEW  IDEAS      99 

I  found  the  knob,  although  it  seemed  to  be  on 
the  wrong  side,  as  things  will  in  the  dark,  and  I 
fried  the  door,  but  it  was  fast.  Just  as  I  was 
about  to  turn  away  I  detected  the  sound  of  voices 
behind  it,  and  knew  that  Riggs  and  the  mate  were 
inside,  and  that  I  had  found  the  room  which  con 
tained  the  mysterious  cargo. 

Bound  to  know  what  they  were  talking  about,  I 
made  another  effort  to  open  the  door  a  little.  I 
did  not  succeed,  but  I  found  a  big  key  protruding 
beneath  the  knob,  and  drew  it  out  so  I  could 
hear  better  and  even  get  a  glimpse  of  the  interior. 
All  was  dark  inside,  except  for  a  small  circle  of 
light  thrown  against  the  bulkhead  in  such  a  way 
as  to  illumine  a  box  which  was  braced  against  the 
wall. 

I  knew  this  light  came  from  the  bull's-eye  lantern, 
and  that  if  I  opened  the  door  an  inch  or  so  those 
inside  could  not  detect  it;  but  when  I  tried  the 
key  I  found  that  the  door  was  unlocked  but  hooked 
inside,  so  I  took  the  key  out  again  and  put  it  down 
on  the  deck,  and  took  another  survey  of  the  limited 
portion  of  the  room  visible  to  me.  I  could  hear 
Harris  talking  in  a  low  tone,  and  Captain  Riggs  ask 
ing  questions,  and  by  putting  my  ear  to  the  keyhole 
I  heard  enough  to  get  the  drift  of  their  conversation, 
although  in  this  position  I  could  not  see  what  they 
were  doing. 

"Tinned  milk,"  said  Harris,  and  he  laughed. 


ioo          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"Let  the  boy  hold  the  light,"  said  the  captain. 
"Pry  it  open  a  bit  more,  Harris,  and  let  me  have  a 
good,  square  look  at  it.  I  don't  believe  there's 
more  than  one  box,  at  that  —  which  wouldn't  be 
no  great  trouble  for  us." 

"Make  a  devil  of  a  racket  to  git  it  broke  open," 
said  Harris,  using  some  sort  of  a  tool  on  a  box. 
"Thar's  two  chists  here,  to  tell  the  truth  about  it. 
One  is  heavier  than  t'other  and  bound  with  iron 
strips,  and  this  outside  one  is  cleated  with  tin. 
I'll  rip  the  whole  works  open,  cap'n,  if  ye  say  the 
word." 

"No,  no,  Mr.  Harris!  Sally  Ann,  not  that! 
Just  enough  so  I  can  see  and  have  no  doubt  about 
it  —  I  don't  want  no  guesswork." 

"They  made  it  fast  right  enough,"  growled 
Harris.  "I  never  see  no  tinned  milk  nursed  so 
particular  as  this,  blow  me  if  I  did!  But  when  I 
started  this  side  so's  I  could  get  my  thumb  in,  I  was 
Jerry  Smith  —  here,  cap'n  —  quick  while  I  hold 
this  side  out  —  put  your  thumb  in  there  and  feel 
the  aidge." 

"It  feels  like  it.  Take  the  light  from  the  boy 
and  hold  it  down  so  I  can  get  a  look  at  it  —  no, 
let  him  keep  it,  Mr.  Harris  —  you  hold  the  board 
out  so  I  can  see  it  in  good  shape  —  down,  Rajah, 
down  low,  so." 

I  tried  to  see  what  they  were  doing,  but  all  I 
could  make  out  was  Captain  Riggs  as  he  bent  low 


MR.  HARRIS  HAS  A  FEW  IDEAS     101 

between  me  and  the  object  on  which  the  light  was 
turned.  I  put  my  ear  back  to  the  keyhole. 

"Sally  Ann!  Sally  Ann!"  I  heard  Captain  Riggs 
exclaim,  and  then  he  whistled.  "Blast  me  if  ye 
ain't  right,  Mr.  Harris!" 

"I  knew  I  was  right,"  growled  Harris.  "Can't 
fool  me  with  that  —  it  felt  like  it  and  looked  like 
it,  and  that  man  Trego  fits  into  the  game  to  a  T. 
I  thought  he  was  a  mighty  shady  customer  from 
the  first  look  I  got  at  him,  when  he  come  alongside 
and  bossed  things.  When  he  got  that  knife  throwed 
in  him  I  thought  I'd  come  down  here  and  have  a 
look  around  on  my  own  hook,  and  thar  ye  be,  cap'n." 

"But  Sally  Ann!  What  are  we  going  to  do 
with  it?  We  can't  leave  it  here,  can  we?" 

"Maybe  it  would  be  better,  at  that,"  said  Harris. 
"  But  I  look  at  it  this  way,  cap'n  —  somebody 
knows  it's  here,  that's  what.  Maybe  the  parson; 
maybe  that  Mr.  Trenhum;  maybe  Petrak  knowed 
about  it;  maybe  Buckrow  and  Long  Jim  knows;  but, 
anyhow,  whoever  had  that  knife  hooked  into  Trego 
knowed,  and  ye  can  put  that  in  yer  pipe  and  smoke 
it." 

"But  I  don't  believe  anybody  would  broach 
cargo.  We  can  keep  the  door  locked,  and  bury  this 
under  a  mess  of  stuff,  say  spare  chain  and  a  lot  of 
old  heavy  gear." 

"Broach  Tophet!"  snorted  Harris.  "Ye  call  this 
cargo,  Cap'n  Riggs?  Wai,  if  ye  do,  I  don't! 


102          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

Broach  cargo!  Think  a  man  that  would  kill  Trego, 
or  get  him  killed,  would  stop  at  broaching  cargo 
to  git  his  paws  on  this?" 

"That's  true  enough,"  said  Riggs.  "It's  bad 
business  to  have  it  aboard,  Mr.  Harris.  I  hope 
nobody  in  the  ship  knows  about  it.  If  they  find 
out  it  may  lead  to  trouble,  and  I'm  too  old  to  have 
trouble  with  my  ships  now.  I've  had  trouble 
enough  this  night  as  it  is 

"That  ain't  the  idea  at  all,  cap'n,"  said  Harris,  en 
tirely  out  of  patience.  "Ye've  had  trouble  already, 
and  all  over  this,  and  ye'll  have  more  of  it,  and  ye 
can't  avoid  it.  We  got  some  pretty  fancy  pas 
sengers  aboard,  and  I'll  bet  my  shirt  the  parson 
and  Mr.  Trenhum  knows;  and  what's  more,  that 
parson  ain't  no  more  a  parson  than  I  be  —  if  he's 
a  parson  I'm  a  bishop.  Now,  them  two  brought 
a  bad  lot  aboard  with  'em  —  Petrak,  thar  in  irons, 
and  this  Buckrow,  and  Long  Jim." 

"It  does  look  queer,"  admitted  Riggs. 

"Trego  had  his  suspicions  all  the  time,  cap'n. 
They  got  him  before  he  could  tell  ye  what  he  guessed. 
Trego  never  liked  the  both  of  'em.  When  ye  come 
to  look  this  thing  over  in  yer  mind,  a  little  at  a 
time,  it  gits  plain  to  me.  Ye  see,  the  parson  brought 
Long  Jim  and  Buckrow;  and  Tryhum,  or  whatever 
his  name  is,  brung  Petrak  to  do  his  part  of  the  dirty 
work. 

"Now,    look   what   I'm   sayin',    cap'n.     We   got 


MR.  HARRIS  HAS  A  FEW  IDEAS    103 

short-handed  quick  thar  in  Manila,  didn't  we?  I 
been  turnin'  that  over  in  my  mind,  too.  Somebody 
cut  the  boatswain,  didn't  they?  The  police  got 
that  Lascar  quartermaster  who  we  had  for  lampman, 
didn't  they?  That's  two  men  gone,  ain't  it? 

"Look  a  here.  The  police  come  aboard  lookin' 
for  a  little  red-headed  sailor  they  said  done  the 
killin',  and  I  told  'em  they  was  dreamin';  but  they 
said  the  lampman,  who  they  took  for  the  murder, 
blamed  it  on  a  little  red-headed  sailor.  I  just  told 
'em  I  guessed  the  lampman  was  their  man,  and  they 
said  a  parson  told  'em  he  done  the  killin',  but  they 
wanted  to  find  this  little  red-headed  sailor  'cause 
he  had  some  hand  in  it,  so  some  witnesses  said. 

"See  what  I'm  drivin'  at?  I  didn't  know  about 
no  red-headed  man,  and  I  didn't  want  to.  We 
had  to  get  out  of  Manila,  and  I  didn't  want  to  be 
monkeyin'  around  with  no  courts  nor  judges,  and 
I  let  the  police  have  their  own  say,  and  agreed  with 
'em  when  I  saw  a  chance  to  keep  clear,  and  disagreed 
when  I  saw  it  would  delay  us  to  get  tangled  up  in 
the  killin'  of  the  bos'n." 

"Well,  I  don't  see  what  all  that  has  got  to  do 
with  this,"  said  Captain  Riggs. 

"Ye  don't?  Look  a  here!  One  of  our  men  cut 
up;  a  red-headed  little  sailor  has  a  hand  in  it  of 
some  sort;  a  parson  tells  the  police  our  lampman 
done  it,  and  thar  goes  another  of  our  hands.  Who 
do  we  git  in  their  place?  A  parson  for  a  passenger 


104          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

and  two  men  of  his  own  he  brings  aboard.  Looks 
like  he  made  room  for  'em,  cap'n." 

"You've  been  reading  books,"  said  Captain  Riggs. 
"What  I  need  is  a  mate,  not  a  detective.  But  go 
on,  Mr.  Harris  —  maybe  ye' re  right  —  I'm  getting 
old  and  trustful." 

"That  ain't  my  main  p'int,  either,"  continued 
Harris.  "What  I  mean  is  this  —  come  to  think  it 
over,  the  lampman  didn't  leave  the  ship's  side  until 
after  the  Greek  was  cut  up  ashore.  It  was  the 
parson  who  put  the  police  on  to  the  lampman." 

"This  same  parson,  Mr.  Harris?  Ye  ain't  sure 
about  that?" 

"Oh,  shucks!  Think  thar's  fourteen  thousand 
parsons  runnin'  around  Manila  with  a  red-headed 
sailor  that's  too  handy  by  far  with  a  knife?  Ain't 
I  got  brains  in  my  head?  He  had  to  make  room 
for  his  pals  aboard  here,  didn't  he?  It's  plain  as 
Cape  Cod  Light  to  me,  cap'n." 

"Well,  what  does  it  all  mean?  You  suppose 
this  is  what  they  want?" 

"Ye  don't  guess  they  killed  the  bos'n  and  this 
Trego  just  for  friendship  sake,  do  ye?  If  ye 
want  to  know  what  my  personal,  private  feelings 
are,  it  looks  like  we've  been  boarded  by  the  Devil's 
Admiral." 

•'Sally  Ann's  black  cat!"  said  Riggs.  "That 
story  was  started  by  some  sea-lawyer  full  of  gin, 
and  the  newspapers  took  it  up  for  fun.  There  ain't 


MR.  HARRIS  HAS  A  FEW  IDEAS    105 

no  more  a  Devil's  Admiral  than  there  is  a  Flying 
Dutchman." 

"Wai,  didn't  I  see  the  Flying  Dutchman  off  the 
cape  with  my  own  eyes  when  I  was  second  in  the 
brig  Peerless?  Ye  can't  tell  me  thar  ain't  no 
Flying  Dutchman,  and  ye  can't  make  me  believe 
thar  ain't  no  Devil's  Admiral  —  I've  been  told  some 
things  about  both  of  'em,  and  dang  me  for  a  blue- 
nose  fisherman  if  I  don't  believe  in  'em  both!" 

"Who  is  your  Devil's  Admiral  aboard  here, 
then?" 

"The  parson." 

"You're  full  of  hashish!  You  been  bothered 
lately  with  your  head,  Mr.  Harris?" 

"That's  all  right,  cap'n.  When  a  man  looks 
overside  and  says  ten  knots  and  better,  and  the 
log  says  ten  knots  and  a  shade,  he  ain't  no  landsman. 
He  spits  to  looward  like  a  commodore,  that  parson, 
and  I've  had  my  suspicions  right  along." 

"All  buncombe.  You  been  readin'  too  many 
Manila  newspapers." 

"Yes,  and  I  see  a  few  things  on  deck,  too,  that 
ain't  got  nothin'  to  do  with  newspapers.  Petrak, 
Buckrow,  and  the  long  lime-juicer  was  all  pretty 
thick  when  no  one  was  lookin'  at  'em.  And  they 
don't  let  on  to  know  each  other,  neither.  Askin' 
one  another  their  names  when  I  was  standin'  by, 
and  soon  as  my  back  was  turned  thick  as  flies  at 
a  molasses-barrel,  sneakin'  round  and  whisperin'. 


io6          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"'Who's  the  red  chap?'  asks  Long  Jim  from 
Buckrow,  when  he  knows  I  can  hear. 

"'Says  he's  out  of  a  collier,'  says  Buckrow, 
speakin'  loud  a  purpose  so  I  can  hear. 

"The  next  I  know,  cap'n,  Reddy  was  tellin' 
Long  Jim  that  Buckrow  never  paid  him  that  two 
bob  for  a  round  of  drinks  in  the  Flagship  Bar 
before  the  cuttin'.  Don't  that  sound  funny?  Then 
when  Petrak  takes  the  wheel  I  asks  him  if  he  knows 
Long  Jim,  and  he  says  not  afore  he  come  aboard, 
and  Buckrow  says  the  same. 

"They  all  lied;  and  ye  remember  how  Buckrow 
helped  Petrak  with  a  knife  when  he  was  in  a  tight 
jam  thar  at  the  door.  I  put  two  and  two  together, 
and  I'm  here,  Ezra  Harris,  your  mate,  to  tell  ye 
that  they  make  four,  and  ye  can't  git  away  from 
it  —  and  what's  more,  this  Trenjum  is  in  with  the 
parson  and  the  other  three.  Devil's  Admiral  or  no, 
it  don't  look  nice  to  me." 

"Do  you  think  Buckrow  and  the  other  two  know 
about  this,  Mr.  Harris?" 

"It  ain't  clear  to  me,  so  far  as  that  goes,  but 
Trenjum  and  the  parson  do.  I  looks  at  it  this 
way  —  they  knowed  ye  didn't  know,  and  that 
Trego  might  tell  ye;  so  they  ups  and  lets  a  knife 
into  him  before  he  can  tell,  and  then  we're  up  in 
the  air.  If  I  hadn't  found  it  they'd  keep  us  guessin' 
until  they  was  ready  to  get  in  some  more  fancy 
work,  the  Lord  knows  what. 


MR.  HARRIS  HAS  A  FEW  IDEAS    107 

"That  Trenjum  is  a  slick  customer  —  I  don't 
believe  he  ever  writ  anything  for  a  newspaper, 
anyway  —  he's  too  tall  and  strong-lookin'  to  make 
his  livin'  with  a  pencil.  This  Trenjum  and  the 
parson  is  in  together  for  all  of  their  lettin'  on  they 
don't  like  one  another.  What  business  has  a 
writin'  chap  with  his  breeches  full  of  pistols  like  he 
had  in  the  saloon?  Ye  can't  tell  me  writin'  chaps 
eats  their  meals  with  guns  enough  in  their  clothes 
to  arm  a  landin'-party,  no,  sir!" 

"A  pretty  pickle!  Sally  Ann,  but  I've  got  a  nice 
mess  aboard  me,  and  I'm  hanged  if  I  know  what 
it's  all  going  to  come  to!  I've  half  a  mind  to  throw 
the  whole  lot  in  irons  and  work  the  ship  with  the 
chinks." 

"Now  ye're  talkin'  like  somebody,"  said  Harris. 
"But  go  slow  and  git  'em  one  at  a  time  when  it's 
convenient,  so  they  won't  suspect  nothin'.  If  ye 
go  after  the  whole  gang  at  once  I'll  bet  ye  have  a 
fight  on  yer  hands.  Grab  one  and  then  the  other 
so  ye'll  git  'em  separate;  and  keep  'em  separate,  so 
they  can't  talk  it  over,  or  ye'll  have  a  peck  of  trouble 
on  yer  hands." 

"It's  no  small  matter  to  put  passengers  in  irons, 
Mr.  Harris.  They  would  make  trouble  for  me 
when  they  get  into  port." 

"They'll  make  a  cussed  sight  more  trouble  for  ye 
aboard  here,  is  my  way  of  lookin'  at  it.  We  got 
Petrak,  anyway,  for  a  start.  He  said  Trenjum  got 


io8          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

him  to  do  it,  and  Trenjum  told  ye  Meeker  had  a 
hand  in  it.  Just  say  one  accused  the  other,  and 
when  ye  come  to  find  this  aboard  ye  had  to  put  'em 
in  irons  'cause  it  looked  like  they  was  hatchin' 
mutiny  in  the  crew.  Then  we'll  slam  the  other 
two  in  irons  on  suspicion,  and  they  bein'  crew,  ye 
got  a  right  to  do  that. 

"What's  the  good  o'  bein'  master  if  ye  can't 
protect  yerself  and  yer  ship?  Trenjum  is  safe 
enough,  as  it  goes  for  now,  but  I'd  make  him  fast 
below  when  we  have  the  others,  and  see  what  sort 
of  a  talk  he  puts  up.  If  we  git  'em  to  tellin'  on  one 
another,  then  we've  got  the  whole  yarn  out,  and 
ye  won't  have  no  trouble  with  the  port  authorities. 
Don't  that  sound  sensible  to  ye?" 

"  I  don't  see  any  other  way  out  of  it,"  said  Riggs. 
"  I  suppose  the  best  thing  to  do  is  to  go  up  and  take 
the  parson.  His  room  being  next  to  Mr.  Tren- 
holm's,  the  two  of  'em  will  know  what's  going  on, 
but  we  don't  care.  Then  we'll  take  Buckrow  and 
Long  Jim." 

"I  guessed  ye'd  see  it  that  way,  cap'n.  I'm 
willin'  to  stand  double  watches  and  take  the  wheel 
myself,  and,  with  the  Dutchman  doin'  the  same, 
we'll  manage  to  get  the  old  packet  to  port  right 
enough." 

"We'll  go  right  up,"  said  Captain  Riggs,  and  I 
heard  them  move  toward  the  door. 

"Blow  out  that  stinking  lantern,"  said  Riggs. 


MR.  HARRIS  HAS  A  FEW  IDEAS     109 

For  an  instant  I  had  a  wild  idea  of  taking  the 
key  and  locking  them  in,  and  then  making  terms 
with  the  captain,  and  arguing  him  out  of  the  con 
viction  that  I  was  in  league  with  Meeker,  and  offer 
ing  my  services  in  capturing  the  others.  But  I 
knew  Harris  could  not  be  convinced  that  I  was  not 
in  whatever  plot  was  afoot,  and  that  I  could  put 
no  faith  in  any  agreement  Captain  Riggs  might 
make  while  the  mate  was  with  him. 

Besides,  I  had  borne  out  the  mate's  suspicions 
by  being  below  spying  upon  them,  and  the  wiser 
course  would  be  for  me  to  get  back  to  my  stateroom 
and  let  them  find  me  there.  Then  I  might  be 
able  to  discuss  the  whole  affair  with  them  and  prove 
that  I  was  the  victim  of  a  plot  myself. 

As  it  was,  I  had  lingered  at  the  door  too  long, 
and  Harris  lifted  the  hook  inside  and  nearly  stepped 
on  me  as  he  stumbled  into  the  dark  passage.  I 
crawled  out  of  his  path  so  that  when  the  three  of 
them  came  out  they  were  between  me  and  the 
companionway  to  the  upper  deck. 

"Where's  the  cussed  key?"  whispered  Harris. 
"I  thought  I  left  it  in  the  door." 

"Light  a  match,"  said  Riggs,  and  he  began  to 
move  his  feet  along  the  deck.  "Sure  you  didn't 
put  it  in  your  pocket,  Mr.  Harris?" 

"Who's  that?"  cried  Harris  suddenly,  and  I  was 
sure  he  had  seen  me  crouching  against  the  bulkhead. 
I  was  about  to  surrender  myself  and  explain  my 


no          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

presence  below  when  I  heard  the  patter  of  feet 
and  somebody  bounded  up  the  ladder  and  crashed 
into  a  ventilator  as  he  gained  the  deck  above. 

"Somebody  been  listening  I'll  bet  my  hat!" 
said  Harris.  "I've  got  the  key  —  it  dropped  out." 

He  locked  the  door  and  they  hurried  down  the 
passage,  Riggs  telling  Rajah  to  "go  get  him,"  and 
then  I  heard  them  running  forward  toward  the 
forecastle  as  they  got  on  deck. 

I  ran  for  the  ladder  as  best  I  could,  glad  of  the 
chance  to  get  out  of  the  black  hole  and  wondering 
who  could  have  been  down  there  with  me.  I 
stepped  upon  something  which  slipped  from  under 
me,  and  I  went  down  sprawling,  sure  that  I  had 
gashed  my  foot,  for  I  had  felt  a  sharp  edge  as  I 
fell.  I  found  that  my  stocking  was  not  cut,  and 
was  getting  to  my  feet  again  when  my  hand  came 
in  contact  with  the  object  which  had  tripped  me. 

I  had  stepped  upon  a  large  shell  crucifix. 


CHAPTER  IX 

A   FIGHT   IN   THE   DARK 

DAZED  for  a  minute  by  the  discovery  that 
Meeker  had  been  lurking  in  the  passage 
while  I  was  listening  to  Captain  Riggs  and 
Harris  in  the  storeroom,  I  leaned  against  the  com- 
panionway  and  fingered  the  shell  crucifix,  wondering 
how  near  Meeker  had  come  to  making  an  end  of 
me.  Of  course,  the  finding  of  the  crucifix  down 
there,  and  the  man  who  ran  up  the  ladder  when 
surprised  by  Riggs,  meant  nothing  else  but  that 
Meeker  had  been  below  either  before  or  after  I 
followed  the  ship's  officers  down. 

The  fact  that  he  was  between  me  and  the  com- 
panionway  was  proof  enough  that  he  had  come 
after  I  had  taken  my  position  at  the  keyhole  of  the 
storeroom,  but  if  I  was  inclined  to  make  theories 
and  draw  conclusions  about  Meeker,  there  were 
other  things  going  on  to  distract  my  attention. 

There  was  much  shouting  and  running  on  deck, 
and,  before  going  up,  I  listened  in  the  hopes  of 
learning  what  was  taking  place,  but  the  roar  of  the 
sea,  the  throb  of  the  engines,  and  the  thumping 
of  my  own  heart  prevented  me  from  making  any 


112 


sense  of  the  tumult  above.  I  had  a  fear  that 
Riggs  had  discovered  that  I  was  missing  from  my 
room,  and  that  he  had  found  Meeker  likewise 
absent  from  his  quarters. 

No  matter  what  had  come  about,  I  was  in  peril 
as  long  as  I  remained  where  I  was,  both  from  Riggs 
and  Harris  and  from  Meeker  and  his  assassins. 
And  no  matter  which  side  won  above,  whether 
Meeker  was  taken,  or  Riggs  and  Harris  killed,  I 
would  be  regarded  as  an  enemy  by  the  victors. 
The  best  thing  for  me  to  do  was  to  surrender  to 
Riggs  at  once,  and  secure  my  pistols  that  I  might 
get  into  the  fight  with  him  against  Meeker  and  his 
henchmen. 

That  seemed  to  be  an  easy  solution  of  my  troubles 
until  I  considered  that  Riggs  and  Harris  were 
certain  that  I  was  the  most  dangerous  man  on 
board.  Before  I  could  say  a  word  I  might  be  seized 
and  ironed,  if  not  shot  on  sight.  Perhaps  the 
wiser  course  would  be  to  get  to  my  room  and  barri 
cade  myself  until  affairs  were  more  settled,  or  until 
we  had  the  light  of  day  and  I  could  know  with  whom 
I  was  dealing. 

With  one  hand  on  the  rail  of  the  ladder  and  the 
other  clutching  the  crucifix,  I  debated  with  myself 
about  what  I  should  do,  while  above  me  I  could  hear 
Riggs  and  Harris  yelling  to  one  another,  although  I 
could  not  make  out  what  they  were  saying.  I  heard 
Harris  say  something  about  "the  parson,"  and  there 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  113 

were  shouts  from  the  bridge,  and  all  hands  seemed 
to  be  running  over  the  main-deck  like  madmen. 

I  started  up  the  ladder,  bent  upon  learning  what 
was  happening  and  watching  my  chance  to  slip  back 
to  my  room  through  the  darkness.  Before  I  had 
gone  three  steps  I  was  halted  by  a  terrific  noise  be 
tween  decks  in  the  direction  of  the  storeroom. 
Several  heavy  blows  were  struck  in  rapid  succession 
against  a  bulkhead,  followed  by  a  rending  crash  and 
splintering  timbers.  An  iron  bar  rang  on  the  deck- 
plates  as  it  was  thrown  down,  and  there  was  a  rattle 
of  chains. 

Going  down  the  ladder  again,  I  crouched  in  a 
corner,  for  I  was  sure  that  the  racket  below  would 
attract  the  attention  of  Riggs  and  Harris,  and  that 
they  would  be  down  to  investigate.  I  would  have 
wagered  that  some  one  had  broken  into  the  store 
room  containing  the  mysterious  cargo. 

Whispers  reached  my  ears  from  the  end  of  the 
passage,  and  then  I  heard  Petrak  yell  in  his  fretful, 
whining  way: 

"Hold  it  down,  Bucky!  Hold  it  down,  ye 
beggar!  It's  my  bleedin'  hand  ye  got,  will  ye 
mind?" 

"Dry  up  about  the  paw,"  said  a  voice.  "Lucky 
for  ye  it's  not  yer  neck  in  a  rope.  Can't  break  the 
chain,  can  I,  'thout  givin'  ye  a  twist,  ye  fool !  There 
it  is  now  —  right  aft  and  on  deck,  Red,  and  follow  me 
close!  We'll  git  'em  off  right  enough  when  ye  git 


iu          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

above  decks.  What's  matter  if  yer  flippers  are 
clear?" 

Something  rushed  toward  me  in  the  dark,  and 
again  I  heard  the  musical  tinkle  that  made  me  think 
of  chain-armour.  I  pressed  my  body  against  the 
boarding  to  be  clear  of  the  ladder,  and  made  out  the 
figure  of  a  man,  crouched  down  and  feeling  his  way 
along  the  passage.  He  stumbled  up  the  ladder, 
and  then  I  heard  Petrak  close  behind  him,  panting 
and  cursing,  and  the  broken  chains  on  his  hands 
rasping  along  the  bulkhead. 

"Wait  for  me,  can't  ye?  Bucky,  wait  for  me! 
Stop  a  bit  and  give  me  a  hand  up " 

"Oh,  come  along  and  stow  the  gab,"  called  Buck- 
row  from  the  head  of  the  companion,  but  in  sup 
pressed  tones.  "Keep  yer  lip  shut,  the  afterguards 
are  on  deck  here  and  I  don't  know  where  Thirkle  is. 
Slip  along  and  give  us  a  hand  with  a  knife  or  a  gun. 
Looks  like  we'll  settle  the  business  quick  now. " 

Petrak  went  up  the  ladder,  his  progress  over  each 
iron  step  plain  to  me  by  the  jingle  of  the  chains 
dangling  from  his  wrists,  and  before  I  had  settled  in 
my  mind  what  had  happened  the  pair  of  them  were 
gone.  Buckrow  had  rescued  the  little  red-headed 
man  from  the  ship's  brig. 

I  crawled  up  the  ladder,  still  holding  the  crucifix, 
for  it  was  the  only  thing  in  the  form  of  a  weapon  I 
possessed,  and  the  manner  in  which  I  gripped  it 
improvised  it  into  a  hilted  dagger,  although  I  re- 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK        115 

member  keeping  it  more  for  evidence  against  Meeker 
than  for  any  other  purpose.  If  the  sly  rascal  was 
still  making  a  fool  of  Riggs,  or  denied  that  he  had 
been  below,  I  felt  that  his  crucifix  would  be  proof 
against  him  which  he  could  not  deny. 

When  I  emerged  from  the  hood  of  the  companion- 
way  I  found  a  high  wind  was  drenching  the  deck  with 
spray  and  everything  was  black  and  wet  and  slippery. 
The  vessel  was  labouring,  and,  although  there  was 
nothing  that  could  be  called  a  storm,  she  was  bucking 
into  head-swells  that  rattled  her  from  stem  to  stern, 
and  the  gusts  of  wind  whipped  the  tips  of  the  waves 
across  her  fore-deck  spitefully  and  without  warning. 

There  were  probably  twenty  feet  of  open  well- 
deck  between  me  and  the  foot  of  the  ladder  leading 
to  the  saloon-deck,  and,  then,  I  had  the  dark  passage 
way  to  traverse  for  another  thirty  or  forty  feet  aft 
before  I  could  gain  my  room. 

I  braced  myself  between  the  hood  of  the  com 
panion  and  a  thrumming  ventilator  and  listened  for 
some  hostile  sound.  I  was  conscious  of  dim  forms 
all  about  me,  although  I  could  not  see  them,  and  I 
felt  as  if  I  had  blundered  into  a  desperate  game  of 
hide-and-seek. 

Thrusting  mv  hands  before  me  into  the  darkness, 
/  stumbled  toward  the  ladder.  As  I  was  about  to 
grasp  it  I  encountered  a  wet  jacket,  and  the  next 
instant  I  found  myself  gripped  in  a  pair  of  arms. 
The  fingers  of  my  enemy  shut  on  the  light  fabric  of 


ii6          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

my  pajama-jacket.  I  struck  at  him  with  the  point 
of  the  crucifix  and  landed  a  glancing  blow  in  his  face, 
for  the  knuckles  of  my  hand  brushed  his  jaw. 

The  sharp  edge  must  have  cut  him,  for  he  uttered 
a  stifled  groan,  and  as  he  recoiled  from  me,  partly 
from  my  blow  and  partly  as  the  result  of  a  deep  roll 
of  the  vessel,  I  wriggled  out  of  my  jacket  and  ran 
forward.  In  my  flight  I  bumped  into  ventilators, 
stumbled  over  a  hatch-coaming  and  pulled  myself 
along  the  swaying  rail-chains  toward  the  bow  of  the 
vessel.  In  the  scuffle  I  had  lost  the  crucifix,  but  I 
had  also  escaped  from  the  man  who  had  grabbed  me, 
and,  while  I  was  in  a  panic  and  did  not  know  where  I 
was  going,  I  hoped  to  be  able  to  regain  the  ladder 
on  the  port  side  and  get  back  to  my  room  once  I 
had  thrown  my  assailant  off  my  track. 

I  reached  the  break  of  the  forecastle  head,  but  did 
not  go  into  the  bows,  because  I  knew  I  could  not  hope 
to  escape  from  them  if  I  did  not  keep  open  some 
means  of  retreat.  I  halted  at  the  closed  scuttle  of 
the  forecastle,  for  from  there  I  could  have  my  choice 
of  getting  aft  again  along  either  rail.  I  clung  to  the 
wooden  hood,  naked  to  the  waist,  and  swept  con 
tinually  by  the  spindrift  from  the  seas  which  met 
the  vessel. 

As  my  eyes  grew  more  accustomed  to  the  darkness 
I  could  distinguish  the  outlines  of  the  machinery  on 
deck,  the  foremast  and  the  companionway  forward 
of  the  superstructure.  I  could  make  out  the  bridge 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK        117 

and  the  funnel  well  enough  to  see  a  figure  moving 
over  the  rim  of  the  storm-apron.  The  vessel  rolled 
and  the  side-lights  threw  red  and  green  glares  over 
the  sea  on  either  side. 

As  I  stood  there  waiting  for  some  sound  which 
might  tell  me  the  position  of  the  mysterious  man  who 
had  attacked  me,  eight  bells  was  struck  on  the 
bridge,  and  I  knew  it  was  midnight.  I  expected  that 
there  would  be  some  answer  from  the  bows,  as  there 
should  be  a  man  on  lookout  there,  and  the  faint 
double  notes  of  the  bell  in  the  wheel-house  should 
have  been  repeated  from  the  ship's  bell  near  to  where 
I  stood. 

I  had  about  decided  to  make  another  sortie  toward 
the  ladder,  when  I  heard  a  commotion  on  the  bridge, 
and  then  a  yell  as  a  man  might  give  who  had  been 
stricken  suddenly  with  death.  It  chilled  my  blood, 
for  I  knew  that  another  blow  had  been  struck  which 
took  another  life  on  board  the  Kut  Sang^  and  I 
realized  that  the  striking  of  the  bells  had  been  a  sort 
of  signal  for  the  assassin. 

After  a  minute  I  heard  Harris  bawl:  "The  Dutch 
man  has  been  killed!  Ho,  cap'n  —  the  Dutchman 
has  been  knifed  on  the  bridge!" 

"The  devil  and  all  ye  say!"  shouted  Captain 
Riggs  from  the  fore-deck,  and  I  heard  him  ckmber 
up  the  ladder  and  knew  it  must  have  been  ke  who 
grabbed  me  as  I  was  about  to  gain  the  upper  deck. 

"Who  was  it,  Mr.  Harris?    What  in  God's  name 


n8         THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

is  this,  Mr.  Harris?  Mutiny?  Is  this  mutiny 
aboard  me?"  He  was  mounting  to  the  bridge. 

"They  got  the  Dutchman,"  repeated  Harris. 
"They  done  for  him  —  he's  dead  as  a  red  mackerel!" 

"It's  mutiny,  Mr.  Harris,"  said  the  captain. 

"Ye  know  cussed  well  what  it  is,"  shouted  Harris, 
as  loudly  as  though  Captain  Riggs  were  still  below. 
"  I  come  up  to  take  the  watch  and  find  the  Dutch 
man  hangin'  over  the  port  ladder  bleedin'  like  a 
dead  goose!  More  work  of  yer  fine  passengers, 
that's  what  it  is,  and  ye  know  why. " 

A  lantern  flickered  above  the  storm-apron  and 
then  swung  in  the  break  of  the  bridge-rail  at  the 
ladder-head,  and  I  saw  Harris  moving  something 
which  hung  limply  as  he  dragged  it  behind  the 
canvas. 

There  was  a  wrathful  conference  as  the  two  of 
them  inspected  the  body  of  the  second  mate,  and  as  I 
watched  I  saw  a  lancelike  tongue  of  fire,  outside  the 
halo  of  light  cast  up  from  the  lantern,  followed  by 
the  report  of  a  pistol  shot,  which  reached  my  ears 
after  I  had  seen  the  flash,  for  the  wind  checked  the 
sound. 

On  top  of  this  came  a  ripping,  rending  noise  and 
the  figure  of  a  man  swung  to  the  lower  deck,  carrying 
with  him  a  portion  of  the  storm-apron,  which  vol 
leyed  in  the  wind  for  a  minute  and  then  was  swept 
away  as  he  let  go  of  it. 

"There  they  go!"  bellowed  Harris.     "Come  on. 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK        119 

cap'n,  we'll  git  the  hounds  now,"  and  he  led  the 
captain  down  the  bridge-ladder,  Riggs  still  carrying 
the  lantern,  which  swung  crazily  as  he  dropped  three 
steps  at  a  time. 

"Were  the  bloody  'ell  be  ye,  Bucky?"  called  a 
voice  which  I  knew  to  be  that  of  Long  Jim.  "Were 
be  ye,  I  s'y!  Ye  missed  'im,  ye  fool.  Missed  'im 
dead.  Jolly  nice  mess  ye  made  of  it!  Were  be  ye, 
Bucky?" 

"Shut  yer  bloomin'  face,"  growled  Buckrow. 
"What  if  I  did  miss  him?  It  was  you  that  spoiled 
my  aim,  falling  against  the  lashings  as  ye  did,  so  the 
blasted  thing  carried  away  with  me  and  like  to 
mashed  my  head.  What,  with  a  fall  like  that. 
Dropped  my  gun,  too,  and  it's  broke  or  jammed." 

"Likewise  I  couldn't  'elp  it,"  said  Long  Jim. 
"Caught  my  blasted  foot  in  a  lashin'  —  rotten  sail 
cloth,  that,  Bucky.  Make  a  stand  of  it  'ere  as  they 
come  on  an'  we'll  git  the  two  of  'em,  Bucky." 

"My  gun  is  jammed,  I  say,"  said  Buckrow. 
"Come  on  below  for  now  and  find  Thirkle  and  Red. 
We'll  get  another  gun." 

They  were  coming  toward  me  all  the  time,  and  be 
hind  them  were  Captain  Riggs,  still  with  his  lantern, 
and  Harris,  uttering  terrible  threats  of  vengeance. 

"Throw  that  cussed  light  away,"  said  Harris. 
"Throw  it  away,  cap'n,  or  they'll  wing  us  sure. 
Cuss  it  all,  cap'n,  they'll  blow  yer  head  off  if  ye  pack 
that  'round  with  ye.  Throw  it,  can't  ye?" 


120          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"I  can't  see!"  wailed  Riggs,  who  seemed  to  be 
confused.  "I  can't  see,  Harris." 

'"Course  ye  can't  see  with  it  shinin'  in  yer  eyes! 
Throw  it  away,  will  ye?  Here  —  now  keep  after 
me." 

Harris  wrenched  the  lantern  from  Riggs's  hand 
and  hurled  it  into  the  sea,  and,  as  the  briny  spume 
closed  over  it,  it  went  out  with  a  spiteful,  protesting 
hiss. 

"'Ere's  w'ere  we  bloody  well  get  the  two  of  'em," 
said  Long  Jim,  who  was  within  a  dozen  paces  of  me. 
"Give  'em  the  knives  as  they  come  along  in  the  black, 
Bucky." 

"No  knife-play  for  me  with  Harris  —  he's  got  a 
gun,"  said  Buckrow.  "Come  along  below,  Jim, 
and  let  'em  go  for  now.  Quick,  or  the  mate '11  have 
ye.  Thirkle  said  he'd  have  the  fo'c's'le  by  now.  He 
run  the  chinks  out,  him  and  Petrak.  Scuttled  Jem 
aft.  Come  below." 

"Not  till  Mr.  Mate  'as  this  in  'is  ribs,"  said  Long 
Jim. 

"Ye  fool  —  here  they  be,  on  us,  and  Harris  with  a 
couple  of  guns.  Run  for  it,  Jim,  I  tell  ye,"  and 
Buckrow  rose  up  out  of  the  dark  within  reach  of  my 
hand  and  thrust  back  the  slide  of  the  forecastle-hood 
and  swung  below. 

Long  Jim  came  after  him,  chuckling  with  the  joy 
of  battle.  I  wanted  to  do  something,  to  have  some 
hand  in  the  fight,  to  capture  one  of  the  murderers, 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  121 

and  so  prove  to  Riggs  that  I  was  not  in  league  with 
them.  This  impulse  to  aid  the  captain's  side  of  the 
fight  came  to  me  swiftly,  and  I  put  it  into  action  at 
once  by  jumping  directly  in  Long  Jim's  path  at  the 
head  of  the  forecastle  ladder.  I  planned  to  grab  his 
arms  and  hurl  him  back,  yelling  at  the  same  time  to 
Harris  not  to  shoot,  that  it  was  I,  Trenholm,  and 
that  I  was  holding  Long  Jim. 

It  was  a  foolish  enough  thing  to  do,  for  in  the 
excitement  of  the  minute  Harris  would  have  un 
doubtedly  shot  me  and  Long  Jim,  too,  and  with  good 
reason,  for  he  would  have  suspected  a  trap  if  I  had 
asked  him  to  hold  his  fire  and  approach  us  in  the 
dark. 

As  it  happened,  Long  Jim  was  throwing  himself 
forward  in  a  sort  of  dive  beneath  the  hood  of  the 
scuttle,  just  as  I  thrust  my  body  against  the  opening. 
His  shoulder  caught  me  in  the  stomach,  and  my  head 
and  feet  flew  out  and  we  grabbed  each  other  and 
went  tumbling  down  the  old  wooden  companion  to 
gether  and  rolled  into  the  black  forecastle. 

"Blime  me,  I  thought  ye  was  down  afore  me, 
Bucky,"  gasped  Long  Jim,  recovering  himself  and 
stumbling  over  me.  I  rolled  to  one  side  and  found 
myself  under  a  bunk. 

**I  was  down,"  said  Buckrow.  "What  ye  trying 
to  do  —  make  a  Punch  and  Judy  show  of  yerself? 
Ye  come  down  like  a  lubberly  farmer,  and  then 
blame  it  on  me.  What  made  ye  tumble  like  that?" 


122          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"I  thought  ye  was  down." 

"I  was  down  —  well  clear  of  ye  and  waiting  for 
ye." 

"Then  how  come  ye  under  my  bleedin'  feet. 
Mind  yer  eye  now,  or  the  two  of  'em '11  be  down  on 
us.  That  mate  is  a  bad  un,  I  tell  ye,  Bucky  —  bad 
as  the  nigger  in  the  Southern  Cross.  No  end  of 
trouble  with  him,  if  ye  remember  as  I  do. " 

"Aw,  stow  the  gab,"  whispered  Buckrow. 
"We're  working  now.  Mind  what  yer  about.  I've 
got  another  gun  from  Thirkle. " 

"Thirkle  here?"  asked  Long  Jim.  "Were  be 
ye,  Thirkle?" 

"  Standing  by, "  was  the  whispered  reply.  "  Shoot 
if  they  come  down,  but  keep  still  a  minute.  Fire  up 
before  they  have  a  chance  to  drop  on  you,  and  stand 
clear,  with  the  gun  around  the  bulkhead  at  that  side, 
while  I  let  go  at  them  from  this  side." 

"Below  thar!"  called  Harris  down  the  scuttle. 
"All  hands  on  deck  and  look  lively,  or  I'll  make  a 
tailor's  dummy  of  the  last  up. " 

"Don't  say  a  word,  but  let  him  have  it  when  he 
gets  well  down,"  whispered  the  man  who  had  been 
addressed  as  Thirkle,  which  mystified  me. 

"Below  thar!  I  want  the  man  as  killed  the 
Dutchman!  All  hands  up  and  one  at  a  time,  or 
I'll  let  daylight  through  ye  all.  Hear  me  below?" 

"Don't  say  a  word,"  cautioned  Thirkle. 

Riggs  and  Harris  were  talking  together,  but  we 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  123 

could  not  make  out  what  they  were  saying.  I  lay 
under  the  bunk  at  the  very  feet  of  Buckrow,  dazed 
and  bruised  from  my  fall,  yet  keenly  aware  of  the 
situation  and  strangely  cool,  thrilled  and  fascinated 
with  the  drama  being  played  about  me. 

I  knew  that  I  had  small  chance  of  escaping  with 
my  life  if  my  presence  should  be  discovered  by  the 
men  who  lay  in  wait  for  Harris  and  the  captain;  but 
it  was  not  fear  which  kept  me  an  auditor  when  I 
might  well  have  been  an  actor  to  good  purpose. 
I  desired  to  see  what  would  be  the  end  of  the  act, 
and,  far  from  being  terrorized  as  I  should  have 
been,  I  enjoyed  the  invisible  scene.  It  was  not 
that  I  was  unmindful  of  the  danger,  but  that  I 
was  surprised  at  myself  for  feeling  no  fear. 

"I'll  give  all  hands  a  minute  to  get  up,  and  if 
they  ain't,  I'll  be  down,"  thundered  Harris.  "I 
know  yer  down  thar,  Buckrow,  along  with  Jim  and 
the  red  chap,  and  I  know  yer  game.  If  I  have  to  go 
down  I'll  kill  a  couple  of  ye,  lay  to  that;  so  ye  can 
come  up  and  save  yer  necks,  or  take  yer  chances 
if  I  go  below." 

"Pass  him  some  insolence,"  said  Thirkle.  "We've 
got  to  get  out  of  here.  Give  him  lip,  Buckrow,  so 
he'll  come  down,  or  he'll  batten  down  on  us  until 
morning,  and  ye  know  what  that  means." 

"What  ye  want  of  me?"  called  Buckrow. 

"Ye  stabbed  the  Dutchman,  ye  murderin'  hound," 
said  Harris.  "Ye  know  what  I  want  ye  for  well 


124         THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

enough,  and  if  ye  don't  come  up  I'll  see  that  Jim 
and  Petrak  swing  with  ye." 

"I  didn't  kill  nobody,"  said  Buckrow.  "Ye 
want  to  blame  it  on  me,  don't  ye,  ye  big  monkey." 

"It  was  you  that  stabbed  him  and  then  took  a 
shot  at  me.  I  know  ye,  Buckrow,  and  I'll  have  the 
life  of  ye  if  ye  don't  come  up." 

"Petrak  was  the  one  what  killed  the  mate,"  said 
Buckrow.  "It  was  Petrak  done  for  the  Dutchman, 
sir.  I  ain't  no  murderer,  sir,  Mr.  Harris,  but  a 
sailorman  what  does  his  duty  as  he  sees  it,  sir." 

"Come  on  deck  then  and  we'll  see  about  that," 
said  Harris,  who  seemed  to  think  that  Buckrow's 
play  of  fear  of  him  was  genuine. 

"Come  down  and  get  me.  Ye  don't  dare  come 
down,  ye  big  bucko.  I  know  the  likes  of  ye! 
Come  down  and  get  me,  if  ye  dare." 

"Is  this  mutiny?  I'll  have  the  lot  of  ye  hanged! 
I  don't  stand  for  no  such  business  aboard  me,"  cried 
Captain  Riggs,  and  the  trio  below  stifled  their 
laughter. 

"Naow  kt  me  handle  this,  cap'n,"  we  heard 
Harris  say.  "I'll  go  down  and  break  this  myself. 
This  ain't  no  time  to  argue  'bout  mutinies;  this 
ain't." 

"Give  him  a  dirty  insult,  Bucky,"  whispered 
Thirkle.  "Give  it  to  him  hard  or  the  old  master 
will  argue  him  out  of  coming  down." 

"Come  down,  ye  swine!     Come  down  ye  low-born 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  125 

coward  and  take  me  if  ye  can.  That's  what  I  say 
to  ye.  It's  me,  Buckrow,  foremast  hand  that's 
talkin'  to  the  mate  of  the  Kut  Sang,  who's  a  dog." 

This  brought  a  cry  of  rage  from  Harris,  and  we 
heard  him  enter  the  scuttle,  while  Captain  Riggs 
begged  him  not  to  go  down. 

"Stay  up  here,  Mr.  Harris,  and  let  the  murdering 
dogs  stay  there.  We'll  fix  'em  fast  enough  when 
day  comes." 

"Leggo  me,  cap'n!  I  say  I'll  break  that  spawn's 
neck!  Let  me  down!" 

"I  can't  let  you  risk  your  life  this  way,  Mr.  Harris. 
I  can't,  I  say.  Where  will  I  have  officers  if  ye  get 
hurt  down  there?  Let  'em  stop  for  now." 

"Leggo  my  arm!"  shrieked  Harris.  "Cap'n,  if 
ye  don't  leggo  my  arm  I  can't  say  what  I'll  do. 
I  never  let  no  man  talk  to  me  like  that!" 

"But,  Mr.  Harris!  Ye  know  what  it  means! 
Ye  know  I  can't  work  the  ship!  Ye  know  what's 
below  and  what  they  want!  Mr.  Harris!  Mr. 
Harris!" 

"Now,  will  ye  let  go?"  demanded  Harris,  and 
then  he  crashed  down  the  wooden  ladder.  The 
forecastle  was  illumined  by  a  flash,  and  Buckrow's 
pistol  boomed,  and  then  a  second  flash  on  the  other 
side  of  the  forecastle  showed  me  the  face  of  the 
Rev.  Luther  Meeker  at  the  entrance  to  the  forecastle 
behind  a  pistol  which  had  sent  a  second  bullet  at 
the  mate.  And  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker  was  the 


126         THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

man  who  had  been  addressed  as  Thirkle,  and  who 
seemed  to  be  in  command  of  the  others. 

Something  rolled  into  the  smoke-laden  hole  and 
sprawled  on  the  planks  near  me,  and  I  could  hear  it 
gasping  and  choking. 

"Leggo  my  coat,  cap'n.  Leggo  my  coat!"  said 
the  form,  and  I  knew  it  was  Harris  wounded  to 
death.  In  a  minute  he  was  still,  and  then  the  scuttle 
above  rattled  peremptorily. 

"Mr.  Harris!  Be  ye  hurt,  Mr.  Harris?  Oh, 
Mr.  Harris!" 

"We  got  him  all  right,"  whispered  Buckrow. 
"That  settles  Mr.  Matey,  well  and  good.  Hey, 
Thirkle?" 

"Good,  clean  job,"  replied  Thirkle.  "Good, 
clean  job,  Bucky,  and  smart  as  could  be  the  way 
you  drew  him  down.  See  what  you  can  do  with  the 
skipper  now." 

"Anything  wrong,  Mr.  Harris?"  called  the  captain 
from  the  scuttle.  "Good  Lord!  ain't  I  to  have  no 
officers?  What's  to  become  of  my  ship  with  such 
a  crew  aboard  me  ?  Sally  Ann !  Sally  Ann ! " 

"Come  on  down,  cap'n,"  said  a  voice  startlingly 
like  Harris's.  It  was  Meeker,  or  Thirkle,  as  his  men 
called  him,  imitating  the  high-pitched  nasal  twang 
of  the  dead  mate. 

"That  you,  Harris?"  cried  Riggs  hopefully. 
"What's  the  matter,  Mr.  Harris?" 

"I  hurt  myself,  cap'n.     Come  on  down,"  pleaded 


A  FIGHT  IN  THE  DARK  127 

Thirkle  in  a  constrained  voice  like  a  man  in  pain. 
"I  done  for  Buckrow,  but  I  hurt  my  ribs.  Why 
don't  ye  come  down?  I  can't  navigate  this  way  — 
I'm  hurt." 

"Who  was  my  mate  in  the  Jennie  Lee?"  demanded 
Riggs.  "Tell  me  that,  Mr.  Harris,  and  I'll  come 
down,  and  not  before." 

"We'll  have  to  go  up  and  get  him,"  whispered 
Thirkie.  "He's  too  wise  an  old  crab  to  be  caught 
that  way.  I'll  take  the  lead,  Bucky,  and  Long  Jim 
last,  and  we've  got  the  ship.  We  can  let  the  fire- 
room  chinks  and  the  nigger  go  until  morning.  We'll 
take  the  bridge  and  keep  the  old  tub  going  until  day 
and  then  pick  out  a  good  place  to  drop  her  when 
we've  got  what  we  want.  Petrak's  got  the  wheel 
now,  and  we  can  do  for  the  chinks,  come  day. 
Blessed  if  I  know  what  has  become  of  Trenholm,  but 
we'll  find  him  in  time  and  attend  to  him  proper. 
Remember:  make  for  the  bridge  once  we've  got  the 
skipper.  Quick  now!" 

The  three  of  them  sneaked  up  the  companionway. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE    DEVIL'S   ADMIRAL 

FOR  several  minutes  I  listened  breathlessly, 
waiting  for  some  sound  which  would  indicate 
that  Captain  Riggs  had  been  killed  or  cap 
tured  by  the  three  who  had  gone  up  the  companion- 
way  after  him.  But  when  I  heard  no  cry,  or  shot, 
or  sounds  of  a  struggle,  I  began  to  formulate  plans 
for  getting  back  to  my  room  or  finding  the  captain 
and  begging  him  to  let  me  help  him  fight  against 
Thirkle  and  his  men. 

Lying  huddled  under  the  bunk  in  the  bilge-water, 
which  swung  from  side  to  side  as  the  vessel  rolled, 
I  must  admit  that  I  would  have  presented  a  sorry 
spectacle  to  any  one  who  could  have  seen  me,  clad 
only  in  the  trousers  of  my  pajamas,  and  suggesting 
anything  but  a  fighting  man. 

But,  in  spite  of  the  poor  part  I  had  taken  so  far 
in  the  fighting,  I  had  no  fear  of  an  encounter  with 
the  men  who  seemed  likely  enough  to  take  possession 
of  the  Kut  Sang  and  murder  all  on  board.  I  told 
myself  that  it  was  not  my  fault  that  I  had  been 
stripped  of  my  arms  and  made  a  prisoner,  and 
blamed  Captain  Riggs  for  allowing  Thirkle  —  in  the 

128 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL          129 

character  of  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker  —  to  throw 
all  the  suspicion  of  the  murder  of  Trego  on  me  and 
hold  his  own  liberty  and  good-standing  as  a  passenger. 

I  fully  realized  the  danger  which  confronted  me 
and  the  ship,  and  as  I  crawled  from  under  the  bunk 
in  the  forecastle  I  had  little  hope  of  ever  escaping 
from  the  vessel  alive.  It  was  no  time  to  go  over 
past  mistakes,  no  time  to  moan  over  what  had 
happened.  I  longed  for  action,  but,  with  both 
Captain  Riggs  and  Thirkle  and  his  men  against 
me,  it  looked  as  if  I  would  have  little  chance,  no 
matter  which  side  was  victorious  in  the  battle  that 
was  being  fought  for  the  ship. 

I  had  to  crawl  over  the  body  of  the  mate  in  order 
to  get  clear  of  the  tier  of  bunks,  and,  thinking  it  pos 
sible  that  Harris  might  have  a  pistol  in  his  clothing, 
or  had  dropped  one  as  he  fell  into  the  forecastle,  I 
examined  his  pockets.  I  got  no  pistol,  but  did 
find  a  box  of  matches,  and,  standing  with  my  back 
to  the  scuttle  to  protect  the  flame  from  the  wind,  and 
also  to  shade  the  light  from  the  open  scuttle,  I 
struck  a  match  and  hurriedly  looked  over  the  littered 
deck  of  the  forecastle. 

I  struck  several  matches  at  intervals  in  this  way, 
waiting  between  lights  to  make  sure  that  no  one 
had  seen  the  flashes  from  the  upper  deck.  If 
Harris  had  had  pistols  his  murderers  must  have 
taken  them.  I  did  find  a  dozen  or  more  cartridges 
of  heavy  calibre  loose  in  the  side-pocket  of  his  coat, 


130          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

but  those  and  the  matches  were  all  that  resulted 
from  my  ghoulish  work. 

In  the  brief  illuminations  of  the  forecastle  I  had 
seen  clothing  of  the  crew  hanging  from  nails,  and 
I  dressed  myself  in  light-blue  nankeen  frock  and 
trousers  which  had  belonged  to  a  Chinese  sailor, 
for  the  jacket  buttoned  in  the  back  and  smelled 
strongly  of  opium,  as  did  the  whole  forecastle. 

The  ports  were  all  fast,  but  leaked,  and  what 
little  air  came  in  descended  through  the  scuttle,  so 
the  place  still  reeked  with  acrid  powder-smoke  that 
bit  the  throat  and  eyes.  The  deck  was  strewn  with 
panniers  and  cups,  that  clattered  to  and  fro  with 
the  motion  of  the  ship.  The  water  under  foot, 
and  the  accumulations  of  refuse,  rice,  and  food, 
made  it  difficult  to  keep  a  footing  without  clinging 
to  the  bunks  at  either  side. 

There  was  a  slush-lamp  swinging  from  a  string,  and 
I  had  a  mind  to  light  its  rope  wick  and  search  through 
the  chests  for  a  weapon;  but  I  did  not  want  to 
remain  too  long  below,  although  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  leave  empty-handed  the  only  place 
which  offered  a  weapon. 

Making  a  hasty  search  in  the  dark,  I  found  a 
broken  knife  and  an  iron  belaying-pin.  The  knife- 
blade  was  broken  within  a  couple  of  inches  of  the 
handle,  but  diagonally  from  the  point,  so  that  it 
presented  an  end  that  might  be  dangerous  at  close 
quarters. 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL          131 

Ten  minutes  were  probably  spent  in  my  explora 
tion  of  the  forecastle,  although  in  my  nervous  haste 
it  seemed  an  hour,  and  I  stopped  frequently  to  listen 
for  intruders,  and  for  some  indication  of  how  the 
fight  was  going  on  deck. 

With  the  handle  of  the  belaying-pin  gripped  in 
one  hand,  and  the  knife  in  the  pocket  of  my  nankeen 
jacket  ready  for  an  emergency,  I  felt  my  way  along 
the  port  side  toward  the  foot  of  the  companion, 
determined  to  get  out  of  the  stinking  hole  and  try 
my  chances  in  the  open.  My  plan  was  to  find 
Riggs,  if  I  could,  and,  if  he  were  besieged,  attack 
Thirkle  and  his  men  from  the  rear,  although  I 
knew  full  well  my  disadvantage  against  them,  armed 
as  they  were  with  plenty  of  pistols. 

But  I  trusted  to  the  darkness,  and  hoped  that  I 
might  outwit  them  by  a  bluff  that  I,  also,  had 
firearms.  Unless  I  could  outmanoeuvre  them  before 
daylight  and  join  forces  with  Riggs  I  knew  we 
had  small  chance  against  them  in  daylight,  if, 
indeed,  they  had  not  already  eliminated  the  captain 
from  the  fight. 

I  had  a  gleeful  picture  of  myself  challenging 
Thirkle  in  the  dark,  and  urging  him  and  Buckrow, 
Long  Jim,  and  Petrak,  to  come  and  take  me,  telling 
them  at  the  same  time  that  I  would  give  them  shot 
for  shot,  and  cautioning  my  imaginary  force  to  hold 
fire  until  the  enemy  was  close  at  hand.  I  imagined 
that  a  bold  manner,  and  the  surprise  they  would 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 


receive  at  my  appearance  in  the  fight  would  diminish 
their  confidence  and  give  them  a  wholesome  respect 
for  me  until  I  could  gain  the  saloon-deck  and  ally 
myself  with  Riggs. 

Then  all  my  brave  plans  went  to  smash  as  I  heard 
some  one  sneaking  down  the  companionway.  For 
an  instant  I  was  in  a  panic  of  terror  and  chagrined 
that  I  had  lingered  long  enough  to  give  the  enemy 
time  to  return.  But  I  determined  that  I  might  as 
well  fight  there  as  anywhere  else,  and,  bracing 
myself  against  the  bunks,  I  drew  my  knife  and 
raised  the  belaying-pin,  prepared  to  begin  the  attack 
as  soon  as  my  visitor  got  within  reach. 

I  could  hear  him  breathing  gently  as  he  came 
down  one  step  at  a  time,  and  from  the  light  "smack" 
on  each  succeeding  board  I  knew  that  he  was  bare 
footed.  He  was  feeling  his  way  along,  as  if  in  strange 
territory,  and  I  knew  that  it  could  be  neither  one  of 
the  Chinese  crew  nor  one  of  Thirkle's  band. 

As  I  stood  there  waiting  for  him  to  come  within 
reach  I  heard  a  peculiar  fluttering  which  puzzled 
me,  until  my  memory  served  me,  and  I  remembered 
that  this  queer  swishing  sound  belonged  to  Rajah, 
the  dumb  Malay  mess-boy.  I  knew  it  must  be 
Rajah,  probably  seeking  for  Riggs;  but  I  also 
knew  that  he  would  have  his  deadly  kris,  and  I 
shivered  for  myself  at  the  prospect  of  being  dealt 
a  blow  from  that  awful,  irregular  blade  which  he 
could  wield  so  expertly. 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL          133 

Now,  I  did  not  want  to  kill  or  wound  Rajah,  for, 
if  Riggs  were  still  alive,  the  boy  would  be  a  valuable 
member  of  our  party;  and,  if  Riggs  were  dead,  I 
hoped  that  I  might  win  the  boy  to  my  side.  I  could 
have  struck  him  down  with  the  heavy  iron  pin  as 
he  groped  his  way  out  of  the  companion;  but  there 
would  be  small  satisfaction  in  killing  him,  for  it 
would  simply  be  doing  a  job  which  would  please 
Thirkle  and  make  his  task  of  taking  the  ship  all 
the  easier. 

Neither  did  I  expect  to  be  able  to  explain  to  the 
Malay  that  I  was  not  his  enemy,  for  he  could  not 
make  any  reply  to  my  pleadings,  and  the  only 
answer  I  might  get  would  be  the  awful  kris. 

I  thought  of  crouching  in  his  path  and  adopting 
football  tactics  —  tackling  him  low  as  soon  as  he 
stumbled  upon  me.  But  that  way  had  its  dangers, 
for  he  would  undoubtedly  have  his  knife  and  would 
make  short  work  of  me  before  I  could  overpower 
him. 

As  it  happened  I  had  no  choice  in  the  matter, 
and  we  came  together  suddenly  and  unexpectedly 
with  a  lurch  of  the  vessel.  He  was  nearer  to  me 
than  I  imagined,  and  as  he  threw  up  his  knife-arm 
toward  the  bunk  the  blade  clanged  against  the 
boarding,  and  his  shoulder  struck  me. 

I  grabbed  for  his  wrist,  and  at  the  same  time 
dropped  the  pin,  which  must  have  fallen  on  his 
foot.  Twisting  his  arm,  I  made  him  drop  the  kris; 


134          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

and  then,  as  I  flung  him  backward  over  a  chest, 
went  with  him,  and,  startled  by  the  attack,  I  had 
him  pinioned  to  the  deck  and  helpless  before  he 
knew  what  had  happened. 

"Rajah!  Rajah!"  I  whispered  frantically  as  he 
attempted  to  squirm  out  of  my  grasp.  "Number 
Four!  Number  Four!  Good  man  —  no  fight 
Number  Four!" 

That  was  my  number  at  the  saloon-table,  and  I 
thought  he  must  recognize  me  by  that.  He  hissed 
in  the  manner  which  he  had  to  convey  that  he 
understood  an  order,  but  I  held  him  as  gently  as 
I  could  for  a  minute  and  tried  to  demonstrate  to 
him  that  I  meant  him  no  harm,  and  spoke  the 
peace-language  of  pidgin-English,  common  enough 
in  the  Orient. 

He  lay  quiet  and  made  no  resistance,  hissing,  and 
I  let  go  of  him  and  fumbled  for  his  kris.  I  found 
it,  and  then  patted  his  head  as  he  still  lay  upon  the 
deck,  and  he  patted  my  hand  in  turn  and  kissed  it; 
and  then  I  gave  him  his  blade,  at  which  he  was 
overjoyed. 

I  struck  a  match  then,  that  he  might  see  me,  and 
by  sign-language  tried  to  make  him  understand  that 
we  should  go  on  deck  and  search  for  Thirkle  and 
the  others. 

Before  we  had  finished  our  silent  parley  I  heard 
a  noise  at  the  scuttle,  and  then  Riggs  whispered: 
"Rajah!  Rajah!" 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL          135 

I  was  wondering  what  I  should  say  to  him,  afraid 
that  I  might  frighten  him  away  again,  or  that  when 
he  recognized  my  voice  he  would  be  all  the  more 
convinced  that  I  was  against  him,  or  make  some 
startled  exclamation  which  would  betray  his  presence 
to  Thirkle,  and  also  give  him  the  information  of 
my  whereabouts.  Before  I  made  any  sound  Rajah 
had  rapped  a  signal  to  him,  and  I  heard  him  coming 
down. 

Rajah  scratched  my  hand  and  felt  for  the  match 
box  in  my  pocket,  and  as  Captain  Riggs  reached 
the  foot  of  the  companion  I  struck  a  match  and  held 
it  before  my  face,  between  Rajah  and  myself. 

"Good  God!"  cried  Riggs,  and  he  backed  toward 
the  companion,  holding  up  his  hands  in  terror  as  he 
thought  that  I  had  captured  Rajah. 

"Captain,"  I  called  as  the  match  went  out,  "it's 
Trenholm,  ready  to  fight  with  you.  I'm  not  with 
that  murdering  crew.  I  didn't  kill  Trego.  Don't 
be  a  fool,  but  give  me  a  chance  to  help  you." 

"Didn't  kill  Trego!"  he  said,  amazed.  "I  know 
you  didn't  kill  Trego,  but  you'had  the  red  chap  do  it 
for  you." 

"No,  I  didn't.  The  money  I  gave  that  little  devil 
was  for  bringing  my  bag  on  board,  and  he  told  you 
that  I  paid  him  for  killing  Trego  so  that  Meeker,  or 
Thirkle,  would  get  me  out  of  the  way.  I  tell  you 
that  I  am  not  with  that  gang.  Give  me  a  gun,  and 
I'll  help  you  in  this  fight." 


136          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"Who's  that  dead  man  on  the  deck?"  he  asked. 
"How  come  you  down  here?" 

"That's  Harris.  Thirkle  and  Buckrow  killed 
him." 

"Thirkle!  There's  no  Thirkle  aboard  here. 
Thirkle!  Why,  that's  - 

"Thirkle,"  I  said,  "is  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker. 
He  is  the  head  of  the  whole  gang." 

"Then  poor  Harris  was  right,"  he  moaned,  feeling 
for  a  chest  and  sitting  down  upon  it.  "Harris  was 
right."  I  could  hear  despair  in  his  voice  —  he  was 
master  no  longer,  but  a  broken,  dispirited  old  man. 

"Cheer  up,  captain;  we'll  beat  them  yet,"  I  said 
as  cheerily  as  I  could. 

"We're  lost,"  he  moaned.  "Light  the  slush- 
lamp  —  they  won't  bother  us  now." 

"But  let's  get  on  deck  and  give  them  a  fight,"  I 
said.  "  It  won't  do  any  good  to  stay  down  here 

The  board  at  the  scuttle  rattled,  and  we  listened. 
I  stooped  and  groped  for  the  belaying-pin. 

"They  got  below,"  growled  Buckrow.  After  a 
minute  h  slammed  the  scuttle-board  shut,  and  we 
heard  a  heavy,  thumping  sound  and  the  clanking 
of  a  chain. 

"We're  lost!"  moaned  Riggs.  "They  are  making 
the  scuttle  fast  with  rail-chains.  All  hands  lost,  and 
the  Lord  have  mercy  on  us!  Light  the  slush-lamp, 
Mr.  Trenholm  —  we're  dead  men!" 

"What  is  their  game?"  I  asked,  in  doubt  as  to  the 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL          137 

meaning  of  what  he  said  about  the  rail-chains,  al 
though  I  was  dismayed  by  the  ominous  sounds  at 
the  scuttle  and  knew  that  we  must  be  prisoners  in 
the  forecastle. 

"There  is  no  escape  from  here,"  said  Riggs. 
"They  hold  the  ship  now,  and  they'll  scuttle  her 
before  day  comes." 

I  struck  a  match  and  lit  the  swinging  slush-lamp, 
which  made  a  dismal,  smoking  flame  and  added  to 
the  heat  and  the  multitude  of  smells  which  made  the 
forecastle  a  hole  of  torture.  But  the  light  was  com 
forting,  and  Rajah  crept  to  his  master's  side  and 
clung  to  his  arm,  the  boy's  mouth  open  and  his  eyes 
full  of  questions. 

"So  they  got  poor  Harris,"  said  Riggs,  still  sitting 
on  the  chest  and  gazing  at  the  body  of  the  mate. 
"I  told  him  not  to  come  down,  but  he  would  have 
his  way.  I  thought  I  could  get  down  here  and  find 
one  of  his  pistols." 

"They  are  gone,"  I  told  him.  "I  made  a  search 
for  them,  and  was  about  to  get  out  of  here  when 
I  heard  Rajah  coming  down.  It  is  lucky  I  didn't 
kill  the  boy  —  or  that  he  didn't  kill  me.  But  that's 
all  done  and  over,  captain,  and  we  ought  to  begin 
to  plan  for  our  escape.  Is  there  no  way  out  of  here  ? " 

He  put  his  pallid  face  in  his  hands  and  shook  his 
head,  and  it  was  then  that  I  realized  his  age  and  his 
helplessness.  He  had  given  up  the  fight. 

"You  don't  realize  our  situation,  Mr.  Trenholm, 


138          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

or  what  all  this  means,  or  the  men  we  are  against. 
That  forecastle  bulkhead  is  lined  with  sheet-iron  on 
the  other  side  to  keep  the  crews  from  broaching 
cargo,  and,  even  if  we  should  cut  through  it,  we  would 
come  against  cargo  in  the  hold,  and  would  be  no 
better  off.  I  admire  your  pluck,  but  you  don't  know 
the  odds  against  us.  They'll  loot  her  and  scuttle 
her  before  the  sun  is  well  up,  and  we'll  go  down  in 
this  trap.  Help  me  lift  poor  Harris  into  a  bunk." 

We  stowed  the  body  of  the  mate  in  a  lower  bunk 
and  covered  it  with  straw  and  some  of  the  clothing 
of  the  Chinese.  Riggs  sat  down  again  and  stared 
at  the  littered  deck. 

"But  we  must  fight  to  the  last  minute,"  I  said. 
"We  can't  give  up  like  this,  even  if  we  are  trapped. 
You  certainly  do  not  intend  to  surrender  now.  I 
know,  captain,  that  the  odds  are  great;  but  we  can 
fight,  can't  we?" 

"You  don't  know!"  he  almost  wailed,  beating  his 
knees  with  his  hands.  "You  don't  know  what  it  all 
means,  of  course.  I  tell  you  they'll  loot  her  and 
scuttle  her  when  they  have  done  their  work  aboard, 
and  we're  doomed  men!" 

"But  what  is  there  to  loot  in  this  old  tub?"I  asked, 
preferring  to  have  him  tell  me  of  the  mysterious 
cargo  than  to  take  the  time  of  explaining  how  I  had 
followed  him  and  Harris  below. 

"That's  what  they  want,"  he  said,  talking  to  him 
self  more  than  to  me. 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL          139 

"Harris  was  right,  but  we  found  out  too  late. 
They  got  Mr.  Trego  before  he  could  warn  us.  And 
it's  not  my  fault  if  I  die  for  it.  Me,  J.  Riggs,  master 
of  sail  and  steam  for  thirty  years,  and  never  a  ship 
lost  nor  a  dishonest  dollar  in  all  my  life,  not  to  know 
what's  in  my  ship! 

"It's  not  me  that  lost  her,  God  knows;  but  that's 
what  the  owners  will  say,  and  that's  what  everybody 
will  say  —  if  they  don't  say  something  worse  when 
the  truth  comes  out.  i Riggs  gone,  and  his  ship  gone,' 
they'll  say,  and  then  others  will  wink  and  whisper: 
'And  you  know  the  Kut  Sang  was  ballasted  with 
gold,'  and  who's  to  know  I  never  stole  it?" 

"Gold!"  I  said.     "You  say  there  is  gold  aboard?" 

"Yes,  gold!"  he  almost  shouted  at  me.  "Chests 
of  gold  coin,  a  dozen  or  more!  That's  what  they're 
after,  and  that's  what  they'll  get,  and  that's  what  it 
is  all  about  —  Trego  and  all  the  rest  of  it!" 

"And  you  never  knew?"  I  asked,  more  to  take  his 
mind  off  his  troubles  and  rouse  his  fighting  spirit 
than  for  the  information,  for  the  details  mattered 
little  to  us  now. 

"Mr.  Trenholm,"  he  began  with  fervor,  "if  I  had 
known  there  were  any  dangers  I  could  have  met 
them.  I've  faced  death  enough  in  my  day  not  to 
fear  it,  and  I'm  no  weakling  if  I  am  an  old  man. 
But  a  master  should  know  what's  in  his  ship  and 
what's  before  him,  and  not  be  caught  in  a  mess  of 
lies  and  sneaking.  But  perhaps  the  owners  didn't 


140          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

know  —  the  ship's  in  charter  for  the  voyage,  and 
Mr.  Trego  took  charge  at  the  last  minute. 

"Looking  back  now,  I'm  minded  to  think  they 
were  afraid  I'd  turn  pirate  at  the  sight  of  a  few  chests 
of  gold.  They  thought  they  were  slick;  but  there 
were  others  just  as  slick,  laying  lines  to  beat  'em; 
and  here  I  am,  without  officers  or  crew  or  ship,  and 
jailed  in  my  own  fo'c'sle.  Doggone  it!  I  guess 
all  hands  knew  about  that  gold  but  me! 

"What  do  they  do?  Kill  my  bos'n  ashore, 
take  the  lampman  for  it,  and  make  me  so  short- 
handed  that  I  ship  a  gang  of  pirates  as  passengers. 
It  was  understood  that  there  were  to  be  no  pas 
sengers  this  trip;  but  the  owners  saw  a  chance  to 
make  a  few  dollars  extra,  and  the  charter  party 
says  all  right.  I  heard  that  much,  and  then  the 
banker,  who  acted  for  the  charter  party,  says  to 
another:  'It  will  make  it  look  more  ordinary  to 
carry  passengers  if  there  is  some  care  exercised.' 

"Some  care!  They  give  me  a  parson  that's  a 
pirate,  and  he  makes  me  suspect  you  of  a  murder; 
and  you  bring  one  of  his  very  men  aboard  —  and 
me,  like  a  fool,  ship  him  —  and  the  other  two  he 
brings  with  his  organ." 

"But  the  gold  —  why  should  they  ship  so  much 
gold  in  this  manner?" 

"For  the  Russians,"  he  said.  "I  went  through 
Trego's  papers,  and  the  best  I  can  make  out  of  a  lot 
of  foreign  writing  is  that  it  is  going  to  Hong-Kong 


to  buy  coal  for  the  Baltic  fleet.  At  first  they  were 
going  to  make  their  headquarters  in  Manila  and 
do  the  business  there;  but  the  most  of  the  tramps  — 
colliers  —  are  British,  and  they  found  it  easier  to 
do  business  out  of  Hong-Kong,  I  suppose,  because 
the  Japanese  could  keep  close  watch  of  suspicious 
vessels  making  Manila  a  port  of  call. 

"Ye  see,  all  the  banks  out  here  are  full  of  spies  — 
Chinese  clerks  and  all  hands  —  and  they  are  watch 
ing  day  and  night.  The  masters  of  the  colliers  and 
the  blockade-runners  into  Port  Arthur  won't  take 
checks  or  other  money  —  they  want  it  slap  down 
in  solid  gold  before  they  will  sail,  and  this  gold  had 
to  be  landed  in  Hong-Kong. 

"The  Japs  might  send  a  couple  of  cruisers  for  it 
if  they  shipped  it  openly,  so  they  try  to  sneak  it 
through  like  this,  and  with  all  their  hiding  and  lying 
and  sneaking  there  was  a  leak  somewhere,  and  these 
fine  chaps  aboard  us  laid  lines  to  git  it  —  and  here 
we  are." 

"And  still  fighting,  captain,"  I  said. 

"Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  Devil's  Admiral,  Mr. 
Trenholm?" 

"  I  never  did.     Who  is  the  gentleman  ? " 

"  I  never  believed  in  the  stories  myself,  but  Harris 
did;  and  now  I  am  sure  that  he  is  right.  Two  years 
ago  a  ship  left  Singapore  for  Bombay,  and  never  was 
heard  from  until  her  chronometer  turned  up  in 
Swatow  or  somewhere.  A  Portuguese  Jew  had 


142          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

them  in  a  pawnshop,  and  he  said  he  bought  them 
from  a  chink  for  seven  Mex  dollars.  They  never 
found  the  chink;  but  there  was  the  ship's  name,  or 
the  captain's  name  written  in  the  case  with  a  pencil. 

"Then  last  year  the  steamer  Legaspi  left  Manila 
for  Hong-Kong  with  cattle  and  Christmas  goods 
and  passengers,  and  never  was  heard  from.  Some 
said  she  went  out  to  run  the  blockade  before  Port 
Arthur,  and  the  Japs  sunk  her,  but  the  others  said  the 
Devil's  Admiral  got  her;  and  then  the  stories  began, 
and  when  a  ship  was  overdue  or  never  heard  from, 
people  began  to  say  the  Devil's  Admiral  had  her." 

"But  who  is  he,  captain?" 

"That's  it,  Mr.  Trenholm.  Nobody  knows. 
He  never  leaves  a  man  alive  to  tell  the  tale.  Some 
say  he's  a  big  chink,  some  say  he's  a  big  black  man 
from  the  African  coast  who  was  mate  in  a  whaler, 
some  say  he  was  an  officer  in  the  British  navy. 

"They  found  a  man  dying  from  starvation  and 
wounds  in  a  boat  that  got  away  from  him,  and  the 
poor  chap  told  a  crazy  story  that  they  couldn't 
make  head  or  tail  of,  and  he  died  before  he  told 
enough  to  help  any,  but  he  said  it  was  the  Devil's 
Admiral  and  his  crew  that  got  'em. 

"Pearlers  he  went  after  first,  and  then  he  got 
bolder  and  went  after  sailing-ships;  and  now  they 
say  he  went  after  steamers  and  got  the  Legaspi,  and, 
Mr.  Trenholm,  I  believe  he's  aboard  here  now." 

"But  who " 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL          143 

We  heard  heavy  blows  struck  against  a  bulkhead, 
and  the  shriek  of  a  door  as  it  was  torn  from  its  hinges. 

"They  are  breaking  into  the  storeshold,"  ex 
plained  Riggs.  "They  have  got  the  gold,  and  the 
next  move  will  be  to  get  away  with  it  in  the  boats 
after  they  have  opened  her  sea-valves,  and  down 
we'll  go  with  the  old  Kut  Sang." 

"But  what  makes  you  think  we  have  this  Devil's 
Admiral  aboard?"  I  asked. 

"Thirkle  is  supposed  to  be  the  name  of  the  Devil's 
Admiral." 

"And  Thirkle  is " 

"Our  Rev.  Luther  Meeker,  Mr.  Trenholm» 
We  are  dead  men." 


CHAPTER  XI 

A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR 

WE  are  dead  men,"  repeated  Riggs,  smiling 
grimly.  "We'll  never  see  another  day. 
This  slick  devil  will  be  back  in  Manila  or 
up  the  China  coast,  praying  his  way  out  of  the 
country  with  the  gold  cached  somewhere  to  wait 
until  he  comes  for  it.  He  can  take  enough  of  it 
with  him  to  buy  a  schooner — part  of  it  is  in  Bank 
of  England  notes  —  but  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker 
will  never  be  heard  from  again,  because  he  sailed 
in  the  Kut  Sang.1' 

"He  won't!"  I  raged,  testing  the  weight  of  the 
belaying-pin.  "I'll  batter  my  way  out  of  here  and 
take  him  by  the  throat  if  it's  the  last  act  of  my  life! 
If  you  won't  fight,  I  will!" 

I  braced  my  feet  on  the  plunging  deck  of  the 
forecastle  and  shook  my  head  like  a  maddened 
animal.  The  seas  outside  assailed  our  bows,  and 
their  fury  thrilled  me,  and  seemed  a  part  of  my 
desire  to  slay.  I  tore  off  my  jacket  and  started  for 
the  scuttle  with  the  belaying-pin  gripped  in  my  hand, 
bent  on  battering  down  the  barrier  which  kept  us 
from  the  upper  deck. 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  145 

"Not  that,"  said  Riggs,  seizing  me.  "You'll 
have  them  down  upon  us,  or  they'll  turn  the  fire 
hose  down  the  scuttle  and  drown  us  like  rats.  I've 
broken  too  many  mutinies,  Mr.  Trenholm.  You 
can't  do  that." 

"But  let's  do  something,"  I  pleaded.  "We 
might  as  well  be  planning  something  as  to  be  sitting 
here  weeping  over  what  has  happened." 

We  stopped  to  listen  as  the  hammering  between 
decks  grew  louder.  The  pirates  were  smashing  the 
chests  that  held  the  gold,  and  to  us  in  our  prison  the 
noise  of  their  work  was  ominous  —  as  if  they  were 
building  a  gallows  and  we  were  condemned  men. 

"They've  got  it,"  said  Riggs.  "When  they've 
stowed  the  boats  with  it  they'll  open  her  sea-valves, 
and  down  we'll  go.  If  there  was  a  chance  in  the 
world,  Mr.  Trenholm,  I'd  fight;  but,  being  a  lands 
man,  you  don't  understand  how  these  things  work 
out.  They  are  probably  driving  her  toward  the 
coast  now  —  we've  been  making  an  easting,  as  I 
can  tell  from  her  roll,  and,  as  they'll  be  well  off  the 
steamer-lanes  by  daylight,  they  may  wait  until 
they  can  see  where  they  will  make  their  landing. 

"But,  if  we  give  them  trouble,  they'll  make  sure 
of  putting  us  out  of  the  way  before  they  abandon 
ship.  Take  it  calm,  and  we  may  see  a  way  out  of 
it;  but  there  is  nothing  to  gain  by  opening  the  fight 
again,  fixed  as  we  are." 

"It's  a  dismal  outlook,"  I  confessed,  impressed 


146         THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

by  his  coolness  in  spite  of  his  surrender  to  the  situ 
ation. 

"You  may  be  right,  but  if  you  will  put  your  wits 
to  work  you  may  see  a  way." 

"  If  I  had  any  cartridges " 

"Cartridges!     Have  you  a  pistol?" 

He  drew  a  heavy  revolver  from  his  pocket  and 
dropped  the  empty  cylinder  into  his  palm,  and  I 
gave  a  roar  of  joy  at  the  sight  of  it,  for  I  knew  that 
it  would  take  the  bullets  I  had  found  in  Harris's 
pocket. 

"A  forty-four!  Here!  These  will  fit!"  and 
I  plucked  a  handful  of  the  precious  cartridges  which 
were  suddenly  transformed  from  so  much  useless 
lead  and  powder  into  deadly  missiles  which  might 
yet  save  our  lives  and  the  ship. 

"Our  luck  has  turned!"  I  cried,  slapping  him  on 
the  back  and  putting  six  of  the  greasy  slugs  into  the 
cylinder  and  snapping  it  back  into  position. 

"We  can  fight  them  now,  captain.  Only  let  me 
get  sight  on  one  of  those  murderers  and  I'll  drill 
him --Thirkle  and  Buckrow  and  the  whole  lot  of 
'em!" 

"You  won't  get  the  chance,"  he  said.     "They 
are  too  wise  to  come  prowling  around  if  there  is  a 
chance  of  getting  a  bullet,  and  they  won't  bother 
their  heads  with  us  now  —  it's  the  gold  they  want  - 
there  they  go  again." 

There  was  a  shot  on  deck,  and  then  we  heard 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  147 

heavy  shoes  pounding  over  the  deck  and  a  wild  yell 
over  our  heads  as  a  man  got  a  bullet  or  jumped  into 
the  sea. 

I  ran  up  the  companion  to  the  scuttle-hood  and 
listened,  and,  with  the  pistol  ready,  tried  to  make  out 
what  was  going  on.  I  could  hear  Thirkle  calling 
to  Petrak,  and  then  the  screaming  of  Chinese,  shots 
in  rapid  succession,  and  the  patter  of  bare  feet 
scampering  on  the  iron  deck-plates. 

In  a  few  minutes  the  battle  seemed  to  be  trans 
ferred  to  the  superstructure  and  the  after-deck,  and 
from  then  until  the  ports  of  the  forecastle  became  gray 
disks  in  the  false  dawn  there  was  scarcely  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  that  was  not  marked  by  a  pistol-shot  or 
the  death-cry  of  a  victim.  We  knew  it  was  a  ruth 
less  slaughter,  and  that  Thirkle  was  working  out  the 
ancient  creed  that  dead  men  tell  no  tales. 

I  lingered  in  the  scuttle,  and  tried  my  luck  on  it 
with  the  broken  knife,  hoping  that  I  might  cut  an 
aperture  which  would  admit  the  muzzle  of  the 
pistol,  or  my  hand,  so  that  I  might  grasp  the  chains 
on  the  outside  and  pull  them  free.  After  an  hour  or 
more  of  labour  I  managed  to  split  away  a  small  piece 
of  board,  but  in  the  dim  light  from  the  swaying 
slush-lamp  I  made  slow  progress. 

In  my  cramped  position  I  had  to  hold  fast  with 
one  hand,  and,  swaying  with  the  motion  of  the  ship, 
work  away  splinters  from  the  thick  panel  which 
moved  from  right  to  left  in  an  iron  groove.  The 


148          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

scuttle  was  built  on  an  iron  frame,  securely  bolted 
to  the  deck,  and  I  knew  it  could  resist  any  attempt 
we  might  make  to  break  if  off  by  working  in  the 
narrow  companion,  which  was  not  wide  enough 
for  two  men. 

It  was  weary  work,  for  the  smoke  below  sought 
an  outlet  up  the  passage  and  made  my  eyes  ache; 
the  wind  that  whirled  through  the  cracks  of  the  hood 
brought  spray  with  it  and  the  water  dripped  con 
stantly,  and  the  thunder  of  an  occasional  sea  as  it 
swept  the  forecastle-head  made  such  a  dreadful 
noise  that  I  was  sure  each  visitation  meant  that  we 
were  overwhelmed. 

Captain  Riggs  crawled  up  to  where  I  was,  and 
asked  me  if  I  had  solved  the  problem  of  getting  out. 

"I  don't  guess  you'll  make  much  of  a  job  of  it," 
he  whispered.  "It's  an  even  bet  they've  got  a  ton 
of  chain  lashed  over  the  hood;  and,  if  ye  dug  through 
the  wood,  ye'd  need  a  file  after  that.  Come  on  down 
and  have  a  bite.  I  found  a  sack  of  old  sea-biscuit 
and  a  bottle  of  water  stowed  in  one  of  the  sp?re 
bunks." 

I  went  below  with  him,  and  we  made  a  sorry  meal 
of  mouldy  biscuit  that  had  been  in  the  forecastle  a 
year  or  more;  and  shared  the  water,  which  was 
satisfying  —  even  though  warm,  greasy,  and  un 
palatable.  Rajah  had  gone  to  sleep  in  an  upper 
bunk,  and  we  ate  in  silence  for  a  few  minutes. 

I  was  on  the  verge  of  despair  as  I  saw  that  Riggs 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  149 

had  given  up,  in  spite  of  my  efforts  to  hearten  him. 
After  the  stories  he  had  been  telling  that  very  evening 
about  mutinies  and  wrecks  and  fights  against  odds, 
it  seemed  unbelievable  that  he  should  submit  so 
tamely  to  Thirkle  and  his  men.  As  he  sat  opposite 
me  on  the  sea-chest  and  ate  mechanically  of  the 
broken  bits  of  biscuits,  I  observed  him  closely,  and 
it  seemed  that  he  had  aged  twenty  years  in  the  last 
few  hours. 

His  hair  seemed  whiter,  his  face  grayer,  the  lines 
in  his  cheeks  and  forehead  deeper,  and  his  chin  and 
jaw  had  lost  their  firm  set  which  proved  him  a  com 
mander  of  men.  As  I  considered  all  these  things 
and  saw  the  pity  of  it  I  forgot  his  age  and  was 
angered.  I  was  bound  to  make  him  do  something  — 
put  my  youth  and  strength  and  hopefulness  and 
fighting  spirit  with  his  experience  and  knowledge 
of  ships  and  find  a  way  out. 

I  determined  to  make  him  do  something,  any 
thing,  rather  than  mope  and  whine,  even  if  I  had  to 
threaten  him  with  his  own  pistol,  which  I  had  taken 
from  him  without  so  much  as  asking  him  for  it. 
He  didn't  want  it,  anyway. 

"Now,  Captain  Riggs,"  I  began,  "I  know  you 
have  been  a  fighter  all  your  life,  and  I  know  you  can 
suggest  something  better  than ' 

"That's  right,"  he  broke  in,  raising  his  hand  to 
stop  me.  "  I've  lived  too  long,  and  my  fighting  days 
are  over.  My  years  have  come  upon  me  all  at  once, 


150         THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

and  they  are  a  burden  —  too  much  of  a  burden  to 
bear  and  fight,  too.  I  am  weary  from  fighting. 
I'm  older  than  I  thought  I  was.  I  have  been  in 
these  waters  too  long,  and  these  latitudes  take  the 
mettle  out  of  a  man  when  he  has  reached  my  age. 

"  I  never  felt  it  as  I  do  now,  and  I  guess  the  owners 
knew  it,  and  that's  why  I  didn't  get  one  of  their 
new  boats.  But  this  ain't  my  fault,  Mr.  Trenholm. 
Don't  you  see  it  ain't  my  fault?  I  should  have 
known  what  was  aboard,  and  then  I  could  have  been 
prepared.  As  it  is,  this  thing  is  too  big  for  me  now, 
and  I'm  ready  to  strike  my  colours.  It's  my  honour 
that  frets  me  now." 

"Your  honour!  It  wouldn't  be  the  first  ship  that's 
been  lost,  captain,  even  if  it  is  the  first  one  you  have 
lost,  and  - 

"I  know  what  you  are  thinking  of,  boy.  You 
think  I'm  afraid.  Well,  I'm  ready  to  die  —  that's 
nothing.  If  I  thought  I  could  save  you  and  Rajah 
here,  I'd  do  it  —  it  is  my  duty.  I've  been  in  harder 
places  than  this,  and  I  was  a  hard  man  to  handle; 
and  I've  had  my  battles  and  mutinies  and  worse, 
some  of  'em  before  ye  were  born,  lad.  They  all 
weigh  me  down  now,  and  it's  not  what's  ahead  of 
me  that's  fretting  me  now;  but  what's  after  me  — 
the  things  they'll  say,  some  of  'em  who  don't  know 
me  well.  Don't  you  see,  they'll  think  I  made  off 
with  the  gold?" 

I  hadn't  considered  the  case  in  that  light;  but  now 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  151 

I  saw  that  he  was  worrying  of  what  would  be  said, 
while  I  was  thinking  only  of  my  life  —  he  considered 
that  he  would  lose  life  and  honour;  and,  as  he  still 
had  his  New  England  conscience,  honour  weighed 
deeper  in  his  scales.  I  felt  ashamed  that  I  had 
planned  to  make  his  last  hours  harder. 

"  I  know  how  it  will  go,"  he  said.  "  It's  been  done 
and  told  of  before,  and  the  master  is  always  blamed; 
and  this  is  no  decent  end  for  me.  I'm  known  from 
Saddle  Rocks  to  Kennebunkport  as  a  brave  man 
and  a  capable  master,  even  if  old. 

"I  stayed  out  here  because  I  had  a  good  billet 
with  the  Red  Funnel  people  up  to  the  time  the 
Japs  bought  their  ships.  Then  I  took  the  Kut  Sang, 
only  for  a  year  it  was  to  be;  but  I  held  on  longer, 
waiting  to  get  a  big  ship  to  take  back  home,  and 
then  quit. 

"My  boy  is  a  lawyer  in  Bangor  —  and  smart, 
too  —  and  I've  got  a  daughter  a  schoolma'am  in 
Boston,  and  they've  both  been  begging  me  to  come 
home;  but  somehow  I  hated  to  go  back  since  my 
wife  died. 

"Mr.  Trenholm,  I  don't  want  to  bother  you  with 
all  this  now;  but  it's  no  decent  end  for  me,  I  say. 
All  the  men  scattered  over  the  globe  to-day,  some 
that  went  as  boys  with  me,  will  have  to  hear  old  man 
Riggs  turned  pirate  at  the  last  and  scuttled  his  own 
ship.  That's  how  it  will  go,  boy,  and  you  can't 
understand.  Fight!  I'd  walk  into  hell  in  my  bare 


152  THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

feet,  with  never  a  thought  of  the  way  back,  if  I 
could  die  with  an  honest  name  —  but  this  ain't 
no  way  for  me  to  go,  along  with  a  passel  o'  gold!" 

"Then,  if  you  are  concerned  about  what  will  be 
said  of  the  mystery  of  the  loss  of  the  Kut  Sang, 
there  must  be  a  way  to  let  the  world  know  of  our 
end  and  the  fate  that  overtook  the  ship,  and  at  the 
same  time  a  chance  of  making  trouble  for  our  Mr. 
Thirkle  after  we  are  gone." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  he  asked. 

"Some  message,"  I  said,  more  to  find  something 
to  interest  him  and  brighten  him.  "The  story  of 
the  Kut  Sang  and  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker,  Thirkle, 
the  Devil's  Admiral,  or  whatever  he  is  called,  should 
be  told;  and,  as  it  is  my  business  to  deal  in  informa 
tion,  I  can  write  it  all  down,  and  we  will  seal  it  in 
this  bottle  and  set  it  adrift.  How's  that,  captain?" 

"A  good  scheme,"  he  said,  smiling  at  me.  "The 
very  thing,  Mr.  Trenholm.  I  have  some  papers 
and  envelopes  here  in  my  jacket,  and  a  stub  of 
pencil  for  the  log-book,  and  while  you  are  at  your 
writing  I'll  fashion  a  stopper  for  the  bottle  and 
a  buoy." 

We  poured  out  the  last  of  the  water  in  a  pannikin 
and  kept  it  for  Rajah,  and  I  ripped  open  a  couple 
of  envelopes  and  set  to  work  on  them  with  a  stub 
of  pencil,  while  Captain  Riggs  took  my  knife  and 
began  to  whittle  a  piece  of  board. 

I  put  down  briefly  but  clearly  the  story  of  how  the 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  153 

Rev.  Luther  Meeker,  and  Buckrow,  Long  Jim,  and 
Petrak  came  aboard  the  Kut  Sang,  giving  their 
descriptions  as  well  as  I  could  remember.  Then 
I  told  of  the  killing  of  Trego,  and  all  that  had  hap 
pened  aboard  the  steamer,  and  about  the  gold  and 
the  plight  we  were  in,  "skeletonizing"  the  narrative, 
much  as  if  it  were  to  be  filed  as  a  news-cable. 

Then  I  put  down  the  names  and  addresses  of  my 
relatives,  and  those  of  Captain  Riggs.  It  was  a 
queer  job,  writing  one's  own  obituary  in  the  fore 
castle  of  the  old  Kut  Sang,  putting  down  the  names 
of  streets  in  Boston  and  Bangor  and  San  Francisco, 
and  making  our  wills  —  which  we  did  when  we 
found  the  space  at  our  disposal  getting  scant,  al 
though  I  had  little  enough  to  give  or  bequeath, 
chiefly  a  pair  of  Chinese  jingals  and  a  good  pair  of 
riding-boots  with  silver  spurs. 

It  took  a  deal  of  time,  for  I  wrote  in  the  smallest 
possible  characters,  and  was  careful  to  make  them 
legible  —  no  small  task,  considering  that  the  vessel 
was  still  rolling  and  pitching,  although  it  grew 
calmer  toward  morning. 

We  did  not  have  any  method  of  measuring  the 
time,  for  no  bells  were  struck  —  at  least,  none  that 
we  heard  —  and  Captain  Riggs  did  not  have  his 
watch  with  him,  for  he  had  not  been  back  to  his 
cabin  from  the  time  I  saw  him  leave  it  with  Harris 
to  explore  the  mysterious  cargo  in  the  storeroom. 

As  I  wrote  I  was  hammering  my  brains  for  some 


154         THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

solution  of  the  problem  before  us;  for,  although 
I  took  pains  to  make  the  story  complete,  I  was 
hoping  that  Captain  Riggs  would  finally  hit  upon 
some  scheme  which  would  release  us  from  the  fore 
castle  and  give  an  opportunity  to  do  battle  with 
our  captors. 

I  took  a  measure  of  pride  in  writing  the  story, 
too,  for  I  knew  there  was  a  good  chance  that  it 
might  be  my  last,  and  I  had  visions  of  it  being  printed 
in  the  newspapers  some  day. 

"I'll  cut  a  little  pennant  from  Rajah's  sarong" 
said  Riggs  with  a  grin,  and  he  reached  up  to  the 
sleeping  boy  and  hacked  off  a  bit  of  his  skirtlike 
garb.  "We'll  make  a  fancy  job  of  it,  Mr.  Trenholm, 
while  we're  at  it.  The  backs  of  those  sheets,  with 
the  stamps  and  postmarks  and  the  address  to  me, 
will  be  good  proof  that  it  is  not  a  hoax. 

"Folks  don't  put  much  stock  in  bottles  washed 
up  by  the  sea  these  days,  and  we'll  have  to  offer  a 
reward  for  having  it  forwarded,  say  to  my  son,  and 
then  he'll  be  sure.  I  guess  he'd  give  a  hundred 
dollars  to  know  what  become  of  his  old  daddy  — 
and  the  girl,  too.  Put  that  in,  Mr.  Trenholm." 

"And  I'll  put  in  as  a  sort  of  P.  S.  that  Captain 
Riggs  intends  to  make  a  fight  for  his  ship  as  soon  as 
he  has  signed  this,"  I  said. 

"You  better  not  put  that  in,"  he  said  wearily. 
"It  ain't  so,  and  I'm  something  of  a  churchman, 
even  if  it  was  only  to  please  the  wife.  I'm  no  hypo- 


A  COUNCIL  OF  WAR  155 

crite,  and  I  don't  want  to  have  anything  in  that 
sounds  like  a  brag.  Just  sign  it  and  let  it  go  at  that." 

"No,  I'll  put  that  in,"  I  insisted,  looking  at  him 
seriously.  "I  won't  have  them  say  after  getting 
this  that  you  gave  up  and  took  your  fate  too  easily, 
which  they  might.  You  have  been  a  fighter  all 
your  life,  and  I  know  you  don't  intend  to  quit  now. 

"Here  is  what  I'll  say:  'Captain  Riggs  wishes 
it  understood  that,  after  setting  this  message  adrift, 
he  and  Trenholm  and  Rajah  determined  to  die 
fighting  rather  than  go  to  their  doom  at  the  pleasure 
of  Thirkle  and  his  men.  As  this  is  launched  upon 
the  waters  of  the  China  Sea,  the  whole  story  is  not 
told,  and  we  are  confident  that  the  Devil's  Admiral 
and  some  of  his  men  will  yet  die.' " 

"Oh,  that  sounds  like  a  boy,  Mr.  Trenholm  — 
you  better  leave  it  out." 

"No,  sir.  This  is  my  story,  and  you  will  please 
sign  it  now  for  what  it  is  worth." 

"It  isn't  the  truth,"  he  demurred. 

"But  it  is,"  I  said;  and  he  signed  it,  and  I  knew 
that  he  was  taking  new  hope. 

He  unscrewed  one  of  the  ports  to  leeward,  and, 
although  we  let  much  water  into  the  forecastle, 
he  threw  the  bottle  out  at  an  opportune  moment, 
and  then  slammed  the  port  shut  again. 

"Mr.  Trenholm,"  he  said,  as  he  climbed  down 
from  the  top  bunk,  dripping  and  smiling,  "I  guess 
you  were  right  about  what  you  wrote  there  last  — 


156          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

I  calculate  that  there's  a  bit  of  a  fight  left  in  Captain 
Riggs  yet,  although  I  don't  for  the  life  of  me  see 
what  chance  I've  got  of  fighting  anybody.  But, 
if  you're  ready  to  try,  I'm  ready  to  see  what  can 
be  done." 

"I  knew  it,  captain!"  I  cried,  taking  his  hand. 
"If  you'll  do  the  planning  I'll  do  the  work,  and 
we'll  beat  them  yet." 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  BRIDGE 

NOW,  it  was  all  very  well  for  Captain  Riggs 
and  me  to  sit  down  there  in  the  forecastle  of 
the  Kut  Sang  and  consider  ways  and  means 
of  saving  ourselves  and  the  steamer  from  the  Devil's 
Admiral;  but,  although  we  made  many  plans,  we 
had  to  drop  them  all.  There  was  no  way  out  of  the 
place  except  through  the  scuttle,  and  we  worked  at 
that  and  schemed  about  it;  but  the  wooden  frame 
was  bound  inside  with  steel  ribs,  and  on  the  outside 
with  chains,  and  we  had  no  tools  equal  to  the  task. 
Nothing  but  a  jack-screw  could  wrench  the  covering 
from  the  deck. 

When  the  starboard  ports  turned  gray  with  the 
light  of  morning  we  had  given  up.  There  was  noth 
ing  to  do  but  wait  for  something  to  happen,  and  all 
we  could  foresee  was  our  doom  in  the  vessel. 

The  sea  had  calmed,  and  Captain  Riggs  unscrewed 
one  of  the  ports  and  looked  out  just  as  the  sun 
popped  up  over  the  hills  of  the  Philippine  coast. 

"  Land ! "  shouted  Captain  Riggs,  as  he  opened  the 
port,  and  I  climbed  up  on  the  bunks  and  opened  a 
port  for  myself.  "That's  the  Zambales  coast  of 

157 


i$8          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

Luzon,  and  they  have  been  making  a  good  easting 
all  night;  but  we  are  running  north  now  —  see  that 
point  ahead?  It's  really  an  island  —  the  Little 
Sister,  I  am  sure  —  and  Dasol  Bay  lies  to  the  north 
up  the  channel  between  the  island  and  the  mainland. 
He's  running  to  get  into  that  channel  behind  the 
island  and  scuttle  her  there  —  he  knows  his  business." 

In  a  few  minutes  the  island  stood  clear  of  the 
coast,  and  I  could  make  it  out,  low  and  green  and 
fuzzy,  with  a  rim  of  white  sand  running  back  to  the 
fringe  of  the  jungle  and  a  ruffle  of  combers  on  the 
shingle.  We  could  hear  the  boom  of  the  waves 
ashore,  beating  at  the  base  of  the  barren  brown  hills 
of  the  coast. 

"He's  well  off  the  track  of  the  steamers  here,"  said 
Riggs,  "but  he  won't  delay  much  longer  now,  unless 
he  can  get  in  behind  the  island  and  then  he  can 
take  his  own  time,  because  he  can  pick  up  a  sail  before 
he  is  sighted  through  the  ends  of  the  channel.  That 
island  caps  a  little  bay,  and  he'll  be  snug  as  a  bug  in 
a  rug  to  do  his  work.  Let's  have  a  look  on  deck  and 
see  what's  up." 

Rajah  leaped  out  of  his  bunk,  and,  after  looking 
around  for  a  minute  in  confusion  at  his  strange  quar 
ters,  drank  the  water  we  had  saved  for  him  in  the 
pannikin,  and  then  put  his  face  to  a  port-hole  and 
surveyed  the  land. 

I  took  the  lead  up  the  companion  with  the  pistol 
ready,  hoping  that  one  of  the  pirates  might  be  close 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  BRIDGE    159 

to  the  tiny  slit  I  had  cut  in  the  board  and  would  offer 
a  target.  I  applied  my  eye  to  the  hole. 

The  Rev.  Luther  Meeker,  still  in  his  suit  of  duck 
and  pongee  shirt  and  battered  pith  helmet,  just  as  I 
had  seen  him  on  the  mole  in  Manila,  was  pacing  the 
bridge  in  the  calm,  commanding  way  that  marks 
the  man  accustomed  to  command.  He  was  puffing 
contentedly  at  a  cigar,  and  there  was  something 
amusing  in  the  manner  in  which  he  cocked  his  head 
to  one  side  to  survey  the  sea  and  then  the  land  with  a 
critical  eye. 

From  side  to  side  he  tramped,  swinging  on  his 
heel  at  each  end  of  the  bridge  like  a  grenadier  sentry, 
and  giving  Petrak,  who  had  the  wheel,  a  stern  look  as 
he  passed.  Buckrow  was  at  the  port  end  of  the 
bridge,  with  a  glass  to  his  eyes  scanning  the  rim  of  the 
sea;  but  Meeker,  or  Thirkle,  kept  aloof  from  his  men, 
and  he  might  well  have  been  an  admiral  on  the  bridge 
of  his  flagship  —  the  Devil's  Admiral,  indeed! 

"Take  a  look  at  them,"  I  whispered  to  Riggs,  and 
made  way  for  him  at  the  scuttle  peephole. 

"Blast  him!"  raged  Riggs  as  he  saw  the  scene  on 
the  bridge.  "  I  never  thought  I  would  live  to  see  the 
like  of  that!" 

"But  how  does  he  keep  her  engines  going?  The 
fireroom  crew  must  know  what  has  happened,"  I 
said. 

"What's  left  of  'em  do,"  said  Riggs.  "He's 
likely  got  a  few  men  below  who  think  they  will  get 


160          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

a  share  of  the  loot  if  they  keep  up  steam.  Perhaps 
the  Filipino  chief  is  at  his  post  keeping  the  chinkies 
going  —  leave  that  to  the  devil  on  the  bridge  —  he 
knows  his  game." 

He  drew  back  into  the  companion,  and  I  looked 
out  again.  I  could  see  a  pair  of  shoes  sticking  out 
past  the  donkey-engine,  just  abaft  the  foremast; 
but  the  machinery  hid  the  man  from  me.  Presently 
a  strip  of  canvas  fluttered  in  the  breeze,  and  Long 
Jim  stood  up,  with  a  sail-needle  and  a  length  of  sail- 
twine  in  his  teeth,  and  cut  out  a  square  of  tarpaulin 
on  the  deck. 

"Look  at  the  cockney,"  I  said  to  Riggs.  "I  can't 
make  out  what  he  is  up  to." 

He  studied  the  sailor  for  a  minute,  and  then  drew 
back  and  whispered: 

"Sewing  sacks  to  carry  the  gold  away.  They  are 
getting  ready  to  scuttle  her.  The  starboard  boats 
are  hanging  in  the  davits,  ready  to  lower  away  when 
we  are  behind  the  island.  There  is  a  channel  a 
mile  wide  in  there,  and  deep  soundings.  He  may 
find  an  anchorage  until  night  and  then  get  away  in 
the  dark,  but  I'm  afraid  he  won't  take  that  long,  be 
cause  he  knows  a  coast-guard  cutter  is  liable  to  spy 
him  out.  This  coast  is  being  watched  pretty  close 
by  the  navy  and  the  Japs  and  the  customs,  because 
there  is  so  much  blockade-running." 

"It  may  be  that  he  is  planning  to  maroon  us  on  the 
island." 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  BRIDGE    161 

"That  wouldn't  be  his  way.  The  Devil's  Admiral 
never  leaves  a  man  alive.  Four  men  will  get  out  of 
the  Kut  Sang,  and  you  know  who  they  are.  He 
ain't  the  man  to  take  a  chance  of  meeting  you  or 
me,  or  even  letting  us  tell  about  him.  It's  'Dead 
men  tell  no  tales'  with  him,  you  may  be  sure  of 
that." 

I  took  my  turn  at  the  little  window,  which  was 
not  wide  enough  to  let  the  muzzle  of  my  pistol 
through,  or  I  would  have  fired  upon  them.  They 
each  wore  a  pair  of  pistols,  big,  black,  long- 
barrelled  weapons.  Thirkle's  were  quite  plain,  for  he 
swung  them  from  a  belt  over  his  white  jacket,  as  I 
could  see  when  he  approached  the  openings  at  each 
end  of  the  bridge  where  the  ladder-heads  ended. 

"It  will  take  about  an  hour  at  this  clip  to  have  the 
island  abeam,"  said  Riggs,  after  he  had  gone  below 
and  looked  through  the  ports.  "They  are  driving 
her  again.  Likely  he  has  an  agreement  with  the 
black  gang  to  stick  to  the  fireroom;  but  whatever  it  is 
he  won't  keep  his  word.  It's  death  for  every  man 
Jack  of  'em  when  he  has  finished  with  'em." 

Long  Jim  was  plying  the  needle  again,  and  Buck- 
row  and  Thirkle  were  holding  a  conference  at  the 
wheel  and  studying  a  chart.  I  could  see  the  red 
head  of  Petrak  nodding  to  them  as  they  submitted 
some  point  to  him;  but  he  kept  his  eyes  ahead  of  the 
steamer,  evidently  steering  for  some  point  of  land, 
Thirkle  finally  folded  up  the  chart  and  tucked  it  ifr 


1 62          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

his  pocket;  and  Buckrow  took  his  post  again  at  the 
port  end  of  the  bridge  and  studied  the  western 
horizon. 

I  saw  a  Chinese  in  blue  nankeen  come  out  of  the 
starboard  passage  below  the  bridge  and  cautiously 
look  up  at  the  bridge.  He  did  not  see  Long  Jim,  so 
intent  was  he  on  looking  up;  but  when  the  cockney 
drew  a  pistol  he  screamed  shrilly  and  fled  into  the 
passage,  his  long  queue  sticking  out  behind  like  an 
attenuated  pennant,  so  swift  was  his  flight. 

Thirkle  and  Buckrow  came  down  to  the  fore- 
deck  and  gathered  the  sacks  which  Long  Jim  had 
fashioned.  Before  they  went  down  the  'tween-decks 
companion  Thirkle  looked  forward  toward  the  fore 
castle  and  hesitated  a  minute,  as  if  he  were  in  doubt 
about  our  being  secure  enough.  But  he  went  down 
after  the  others,  and  we  heard  hammering  behind 
the  bulkhead  again. 

Petrak  remained  at  the  wheel,  a  jaunty  figure  with 
a  white  canvas  cap  on  his  flaming  head  and  one  of 
Captain  Riggs's  best  Manila  cigars  between  his  teeth. 
He  managed  the  wheel  with  one  hand,  holding  a 
pistol  ready  with  the  other,  and  looking  the  ship 
over  from  time  to  time. 

"They  are  steering  to  pass  in  behind  the  island," 
said  Riggs,  as  I  went  below.  "It  is  about  four 
miles  ahead  now,  and  they  are  at  half  steam  again, 
because  the  reefs  are  bad  in  here  —  coral-banks  and 
ledges  running  out  from  the  mainland.  When  they 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  BRIDGE    163 

get  her  in  the  lee  of  the  island  they'll  make  a  quick 
job  of  her,  and  us,  too." 

"If  I  don't  make  a  quick  job  of  them  with  the 
pistol,"  I  said. 

"You  keep  three  bullets  —  you'll  need  them  when 
the  green  water  is  spilling  in  here,"  and  he  gave  me  a 
significant  look. 

Despair  was  upon  him  again,  but  I  could  not  bring 
myself  to  feel  that  death  awaited  us.  Weak  and 
hungry  and  thirsty,  life  was  still  strong,  and  the 
desire  to  live,  if  only  to  have  vengeance  on  Thirkle 
and  his  men,  kept  up  my  courage. 

"There  is  some  way  out  —  some  way  we  can  get 
the  upper  hand.  When  the  water  comes  in  I'll  be 
ready  to  give  up,  but  not  until  then." 

He  smiled  sadly  and  shrugged  his  shoulders,  look 
ing  pityingly  at  Rajah,  who  was  playing  at  some  sort 
of  a  game  with  grains  of  rice  in  a  pannikin.  We 
went  up  the  ladder  again  to  see  what  the  pirates  were 
about,  for  it  was  quite  still  in  the  hold,  and  silence 
seemed  more  ominous  than  a  telltale  clatter. 

Buckrow  and  Long  Jim  came  up  with  a  bulging 
sack  slung  in  a  rope.  Thirkle  gave  them  a  hand  up 
the  ladder  to  the  boat-deck,  but  he  let  them  do  the 
hard  work. 

Petrak  slipped  a  lashing  over  the  wheel  and  leaned 
over  the  bridge-rail,  grinning  down  at  them,  and 
made  some  remark  which  caused  Buckrow  to  laugh 
so  inordinately  that  he  dropped  his  end  of  the  rope, 


164          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

and  the  sack  fell  on  the  head  of  the  ladder.  He 
pulled  it  up  on  the  deck,  and,  thrusting  his  hand  into 
his  trousers-pocket,  drew  out  a  handful  of  gold  coins 
and  hurled  them  up  at  Petrak. 

They  struck  the  remnant  of  the  storm-apron  and 
rattled  to  the  fore-deck,  some  of  the  glittering  disks 
pelting  Thirkle,  who  was  halfway  up  the  ladder. 
Petrak  threw  out  his  hand  to  catch  the  coins,  and  I 
saw  that  his  wrists  were  still  encircled  by  steel 
bands. 

Thirkle  reprimanded  them,  and  Petrak  went  back 
to  the  wheel,  and  Buckrow  and  Long  Jim  hoisted  the 
sack  into  the  boat  and  stowed  it.  While  Petrak 
held  the  spoke  of  the  wheel  with  one  hand,  he  rasped 
at  the  iron  upon  it  with  a  file,  cutting  away  the 
heavy  manacle. 

Riggs  and  I  took  turns  at  the  scuttle,  and  saw 
Thirkle  and  Buckrow  and  Long  Jim  carry  up  a  dozen 
or  more  sacks.  Some  were  put  in  the  second  boat, 
farther  aft  and  out  of  the  range  of  our  vision,  hidden 
as  it  was  from  us  by  the  corner  of  the  superstructure. 

During  the  time  they  were  below  we  could  hear 
them  smashing  the  treasure-chests.  While  they 
were  busy  in  the  storeroom  I  hacked  away  at  the 
scuttle-board,  which  was  thick  and  of  hard  wood, 
well  seasoned  by  continual  wetting  and  drying  in 
the  tropic  sun. 

To  make  matters  worse,  I  found  that  it  was  full 
of  brass  nails  driven  in  from  the  outside,  and  Riggs 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  BRIDGE    165 

told  me  some  sailor  had  put  a  border  of  nails  round 
the  board  and  made  a  crude  nameplate  by  spelling 
out  the  name  of  the  vessel  with  nail-heads.  The 
blade  of  my  knife  encountered  these  nails,  and  I 
made  slow  work  of  cutting  a  hole  large  enough  to 
admit  the  muzzle  of  our  pistol. 

When  they  had  all  the  gold  up  they  stowed  the 
boats  with  tinned  goods  and  casks  of  water.  Then 
they  opened  a  bottle  of  wine  and  drank  its  contents, 
and  Thirkle  hurled  it  toward  the  forecastle,  and  it 
smashed  on  the  iron  plates  within  a  few  feet  of  us. 
Buckrow  and  Long  Jim  disappeared  in  the  saloon 
after  this,  and  Thirkle  looked  his  chart  over  again 
and  motioned  to  Petrak  to  alter  the  helm. 

"He's  heading  her  in  for  the  strait,"  said  Riggs. 
"He  had  better  allow  for  that  tide-rip  that  comes 
down  through,  or  she'll  have  her  head  swung  round 
at  this  speed  before  he  knows  where  he  is  at." 

The  steamer  seemed  to  be  gradually  losing  head 
way,  and  the  throbbing  of  her  engines  was  becoming 
less  pronounced.  I  observed,  also,  that  the  smoke 
from  her  funnel  was  beginning  to  hang  over  her  and 
curl  down  upon  the  bridge.  But,  in  spite  of  her 
slowing  down,  the  musical  ripple  at  her  bow  in 
creased,,  and  Riggs  said  it  was  due  to  the  set  of  the 
current  against  us,  which  came  through  the  channel 
very  strong,  as  the  island  cut  out  a  deep  current  and 
brought  it  to  the  surface  of  the  sea  in  the  narrow 
passage  between  the  island  and  the  mainland. 


166          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"It's  a  bad  hole  in  there,"  he  said.  "He  needs 
more  speed  to  handle  her  right  in  there  and " 

"Something  is  up!"  I  told  him,  as  I  saw  Thirkle 
listen  a  second  and  step  quickly  to  the  engine-room 
telegraph  and  throw  it  over. 

I  could  hear  the  sharp  clang  of  the  bell;  but 
the  next  instant  there  was  a  terrific  roar,  and  the 
superstructure  began  to  vomit  steam  through  the 
engine-room  skylight  just  abaft  the  little  wheel- 
house. 

"The  boilers!"  yelled  Riggs.  "She's  blowing  off, 
and  there  is  a  steam-pipe  gone,  or  somebody  below 
has  opened  her  whole  insides  up." 

The  Kut  Sang  was  a  white  volcano  amidships,  and 
I  saw  Thirkle  yelling  frantically,  and  Buckrow  and 
Long  Jim  appeared  in  the  passage  below  and  yelled 
to  Thirkle,  waving  their  arms,  and  then  dashed  up  the 
ladder  to  the  bridge. 

Suddenly  they  started  back  and  grouped  themselves 
about  Petrak  at  the  wheel  with  drawn  weapons, 
and  the  next  instant  I  saw  a  half-dozen  forms  emerge 
from  the  welter  of  steam  and  dash  at  the  pirates. 

They  were  Chinese  and  Filipino  stokers,  but  one 
of  them  seemed  to  be  the  leader,  and  he  wore  an 
engineer's  cap  and  was  stripped  to  the  waist.  I 
saw  the  puffs  of  smoke  from  the  pistols  of  the  four 
pirates  —  Petrak  put  his  back  to  the  wheel  and  fired 
over  Thirkle's  shoulder  — •  but  the  awful  racket  of 
the  steam-pipes  drowned  the  reports. 


"I  saw  the  puffs  of  smoke  from  the  pistols  of  the  four  pirates — but  the 
awful  racket  of  the  steampipes  drowned  the  reports" 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  BRIDGE    167 

Two  of  the  Chinese  fell  at  the  first  volley,  and  a 
third,  evidently  wounded,  turned  in  his  tracks  and 
jumped  over  the  rail.  Another  hacked  viciously  at 
Thirkle  with  a  long  knife,  but  he  could  not  reach  him. 
Thirkle  stood  with  his  feet  wide  apart,  and  his 
helmet  on  the  back  of  his  head  and  fired  coolly  and 
swiftly. 

The  Filipino  in  the  engineer's  cap  dropped  the 
iron  bar  with  which  he  had  advanced  in  the  rush, 
and  put  both  hands  to  his  stomach,  and  stood 
within  six  feet  of  Thirkle,  looking  at  him  in  a  sur 
prised  way,  and  finally  threw  up  his  hands  as  if  he 
had  lost  his  balance  and  curled  over  backward  to 
the  deck. 

A  Filipino  toppled  over  the  bridge-rail  and  struck 
in  a  heap  on  the  fore-deck,  and  lay  still,  but  I  could 
not  tell  whether  it  was  the  fall  or  a  bullet  that  had 
killed  him. 

One  Chinaman  slid  down  the  ladder-rail  whirling 
like  an  acrobat  in  the  air  before  he  landed,  and  an 
other  followed  him,  but  they  were  the  two  last,  and 
Buckrow  and  Long  Jim  started  after  them.  The 
first  started  for  the  forecastle  and  began  to  throw  off 
the  chains,  standing  between  me  and  the  deck,  so 
that  I  could  not  see  what  was  happening  for  a  minute. 
He  worked  frantically,  jabbering  all  the  while,  and, 
as  I  thought,  calling  to  his  companion. 

He  couldn't  have  been  at  work  more  than  a  min 
ute,  but  to  me  it  seemed  an  hour  or  more,  and  I 


i68          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

prayed  that  he  might  succeed  in  opening  the  scuttle, 
and  I  wondered  at  his  surprise  if  he  should  throw 
back  the  sliding-board  and  see  me  come  out  with 
upraised  pistol. 

But  a  pistol  spoke  close  at  hand,  and  the  narrow 
slit  in  the  board  let  in  the  sun  again  and  I  saw  the 
Chinaman  fall  just  outside.  Buckrow  and  Long  Jim 
were  running  back  to  the  bridge.  Thirkle  yelled 
something  to  them  and  they  nodded  and  went 
through  the  starboard  passage. 

The  uproar  of  the  escaping  steam  was  dying  out, 
and  I  told  Riggs  what  I  had  witnessed.  The  Fili 
pino  in  the  cap  was  the  chief  engineer,  and  we  knew 
that  he  had  led  a  last  sortie  against  the  pirates, 
determined  to  die  in  a  last  effort  to  defeat  them 
rather  than  be  shot  down  or  left  to  drown. 

"Sally  Ann!"  said  Riggs.  "If  that  chinkie  had 
cleared  away  the  chains  there  we  might  have  got 
out  of  here  and  put  in  a  hand's  work,  too.  He  won't 
have  steerage  way  on  her  —  her  engines  have  gone 
dead  now.  Feel  her  swing  with  that  current?" 

"They've  started  again,"  I  said,  feeling  a  tremor 
in  the  vessel. 

"Here  we  go!"  cried  Riggs.  "They've  opened 
her  sea-valves!" 

We  listened  and  stared  at  each  other  for  a  minute 
while  the  water  sucked  and  gurgled  and  the  Kut 
Sang  began  to  vibrate  from  the  flood  pouring  into 
her.  Gradually  her  head  began  to  swing  to  seaward 


THE  BATTLE  ON  THE  BRIDGE    169 

away  from  the  island,  as  the  current  caught  her,  and, 
as  I  looked  out  I  saw  Thirkle  and  Buckrow  in  the 
forward  boat,  lowering  away. 

"There  they  go!"  I  yelled,  and  we  dashed  below, 
hoping  that  we  would  have  a  shot  at  them  as  they 
got  clear  of  the  vessel,  but,  as  the  ship  was  swinging 
outward,  and  our  ports  were  so  far  forward,  we  were 
kept  swinging  away  from  them,  and  all  we  had  was  a 
bare  glimpse  of  the  two  boats  pulling  away  from  the 
ship,  one  of  them  being  towed. 

The  island  was  close  at  hand,  a  half-mile  or  more, 
although  it  seemed  almost  within  reach,  but  we  lost 
sight  of  that  in  a  minute  as  the  head  of  the  Kut 
Sang  stood  toward  the  open  sea,  and  her  stern  began 
to  settle. 

"They  had  to  get  out  of  her  when  Pedro  cut  her 
engines  out  and  lowered  her  boilers.  It  rushed  their 
game,  because  he  wanted  to  hide  her  in  behind  the 
island,  but  it  won't  make  much  difference  now,  Mr. 
Trenholm  —  hear  that?  She's  filling  rapidly." 

We  were  drifting  broadside  in  the  current  now, 
sweeping  down  the  coast  and  sinking  at  the  same 
time. 

I  ran  up  the  companion  and  began  to  struggle  with 
the  scuttle-board  again,  hoping  that  the  Chinaman 
who  was  seeking  shelter  from  the  pirates'  bullets 
had  made  it  possible  for  us  to  escape.  The  board 
was  looser,  and  I  slipped  it  to  one  side  nearly  an 
inch,  and  then  it  jammed  again. 


170          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"Trenholm!  Trenholm!"  yelled  Riggs  fran 
tically  from  below. 

"What  is  it?"  I  called,  hating  to  lose  a  second  in 
my  efforts  to  get  the  board  free. 

He  did  not  answer,  and  I  called  to  him  again. 
Before  the  words  were  out  of  my  mouth  I  was  sprawl 
ing  on  all  fours  on  the  deck  below. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

WE    PLAN    AN    EXPEDITION 

I  HAD  been  thrown  down  the  companion  by  an 
appalling   crash  and    a    sudden    lurch   of   the 
steamer  as  she  careened  to  port.     It  seemed  to 
me  that  the  bottom  plates  were  being  ripped  out  of 
her  and  she  was  settling  on  her  side  with  a  succes 
sion  of  thumps  which  I  took  to  be  her  last  effort  to 
keep  afloat.     The  sea  was  almost  to  the  open  ports 
on  the  port  side;  and,  as  I  tried  to  gain  my  feet  on 
the  tilted  deck  of  the  forecastle,  I  fell  against  the  out- 
boards  of  the  line  of  bunks. 

"She's  aground!"  screamed  Captain  Riggs  at  me. 
"  She's  gone  smash  flat  into  a  bed  of  coral!  See  that 
green  streak  running  away  from  us  to  seaward? 
That's  a  reef  running  out  from  the  mainland  and 
we've  piled  up  on  it,  and  if  we  don't  slip  off  we're 
safe  until  it  comes  on  to  blow." 

He  ran  to  the  starboard  side  and  climbed  the 
bunks  to  look  through  the  ports  there. 

"It's  all  around  us!  Hear  her  settling?  She's 
making  a  bed  for  herself  in  the  coral-patch  and  she's 
not  taking  any  more  water.  She's  safe  as  a  church, 
Mr.  Trenholm.  If  the  tide  don't  lift  her  off  enough 

171 


172          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

to  pull  her  into  deep  water,  or  the  current  swing  her, 
she'll  hold  until  the  sea  comes  up;  but  she's  pretty 
deep  and  lays  steady.  She'll  break  up  right  here." 

"That's  small  comfort  for  us,"  I  said,  nursing  my 
bruises. 

"They've  gone  in  behind  that  point  and  made  a 
landing,"  said  Riggs,  still  looking  through  the  port. 
"We'll  be  out  of  here  in  jig-time  now.  Where  be 
my  matches?  Here!  You  and  Rajah  fish  for  water 
with  these  tins  on  a  string,  and  wet  down  all  these 
rags.  Pull  all  the  water  in  here  you  can." 

He  lit  the  slush-lamp  again,  and  I  wondered  what 
he  was  about.  I  was  not  quite  sure  whether  he 
knew  of  a  way  to  get  out  of  the  forecastle,  or  had 
lost  his  reason.  He  was  all  bustle  and  business  in 
a  minute. 

"I  thought  we  wanted  to  keep  the  water  out,"  I 
remarked. 

"Stow  that  talk  and  obey  orders,"  said  Riggs 
sharply,  digging  grease  out  of  the  can  of  the  lamp 
with  his  fingers  and  picking  the  wick  to  make  it 
burn  better.  "Look  lively  now  with  that  water  and 
I'll  show  you  a  trick  or  two  now  that  they've  aban 
doned  ship.  I'll  take  a  hand  in  this  business  myself." 

"What's  the  plan?"  I  asked. 

"Burn  the  cussed  scuttle  off  a  mite  at  a  time. 
Grease  a  bit  of  the  board  and  then  hold  the  flame  of 
the  lamp  on  it,  and,  when  it  gets  too  lively,  heave 
some  water  on  and  put  it  out  and  begin  again. 


WE  PLAN  AN  EXPEDITION        173 

Haul  a  couple  of  barrels  of  water  in  here  and  spill  it 
under  the  bunks  so  we  can  git  at  it  with  the  pans  if 
the  fire  starts  to  git  away  from  us.  Clap  on,  man; 
we  need  every  minute  now." 

Rajah  and  I  rigged  them  with  strings  and  set  to 
drawing  water  through  the  port-holes  on  the  port 
side,  which  was  not  a  hard  job,  for  the  swells  came 
within  a  couple  of  feet  of  our  hands  as  we  held  the 
tins  outside.  We  filled  sea-chests,  the  rubber  crowns 
of  a  couple  of  old  sou'westers,  and  dumped  water 
through  the  slats  of  the  tiers  of  bunks  so  that  it 
lodged  in  the  angle  between  the  side  of  the  ship  and 
the  deck. 

While  we  were  at  this  task  Riggs  was  up  in  the 
scuttle,  and  from  time  to  time  we  could  hear  the 
crackle  of  flames,  and  then  the  hissing  of  the  water 
as  he  extinguished  the  burning  planks.  The  thick 
smoke  came  down  the  companion  and  burned  our 
eyes  and  nostrils  as  it  escaped  through  the  ports. 

Riggs  came  down  every  few  minutes  to  get  a 
supply  of  water.  He  was  black  as  a  chimney-sweep, 
but  he  reported  good  progress  and  grinned  at  our 
discomfort  from  the  smoke  and  heat. 

Finally  we  heard  Riggs  hammering  at  the  charred 
board  with  the  belaying-pin. 

"I've  got  it  through!"  he  yelled  to  us  from  a 
smoking  shower  of  black  fragments  of  the  board,  and 
I  ran  up  to  him  and  saw  the  sun  through  the  chains 
around  the  frame  of  the  scuttle.  The  links  were 


174         THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

glowing  with  heat  and  we  dashed  water  on  them.  In 
a  short  time  we  had  wrenched  them  apart  so  Rajah 
could  get  through  the  strands.  Then  he  threw  off 
the  bars  of  our  prison,  and  Riggs  and  I  gained  the 
hot  plates  of  the  sloping  fore-deck,  crawling  over  the 
body  of  the  dead  Chinese,  which  we  rolled  into  the 
sea. 

"They  are  clean  gone,"  said  Riggs,  crawling  up  to 
the  starboard  side  and  scanning  the  island  and  the 
channel.  "They  went  in  behind  that  point,  and  it's 
a  good  chance  they'll  be  back  if  they  see  she's  still 
afloat." 

"Let  them  come,"  I  said.  "Are  there  any  more 
weapons  in  the  ship?" 

"I've  got  a  few  guns  stowed  where  even  Thirkle 
couldn't  find  'em,  or  at  least  Harris  hid  some  away. 
Always  afraid  of  mutiny,  he  was,  and  he  got  one 
with  a  vengeance,  poor  chap.  It's  my  ticket  to  a 
penny  whistle  we'll  find  Thirkle  and  his  men  on  the 
island." 

"Then  you'll  go  after  them,  captain?" 

"Well,  I'd  rather  guess  so,"  he  said  vehemently. 
"I'm  on  fair  ground  now,  and  if  they  don't  come 
back  to  burn  the  ship  I'm  the  man  to  hunt  them  out 
of  their  holes  ashore.  But  what  I'm  afraid  of  is 
they  will  hide  the  stuff  and  make  for  the  mainland,  or 
put  off  to  the  north  in  the  boats  to  see  if  they  can't  be 
picked  up  by  some  steamer  for  the  north  coast. 

"They'll  report  the  Kut  Sang  lost,  and  Thirkle '11 


WE  PLAN  AN  EXPEDITION        175 

figure  on  getting  back  here  before  folks  are  suspicious. 
Of  course  the  people  who  shipped  that  gold  may 
smell  a  rat  and  keep  tab  on  him,  but  he'll  see  that  he 
gets  clear.  He'll  report  her  foundered  far  from  here 
—  leave  that  to  him.  I  doubt  if  he'll  quit  this  place 
as  long  as  he  sees  a  foot  of  the  Kut  Sang  above  water. 
Are  you  game  to  go  after  him,  Mr.  Trenholm?" 

"I'm  with  you  to  the  end  of  the  whole  game  —  I 
want  to  see  it  played  out  now,  win  or  lose." 

"I  knew  you  would.  I  suppose  I've  been  a  bit 
of  an  old  woman,  Mr.  Trenholm,  but  I  never  looked 
for  the  likes  of  what  was  aboard  last  night.  There 
I  was,  alone,  you  might  say,  blind  as  an  owl  on  what 
was  going  on  around  me,  and  when  things  began  to 
go  bad  they  had  you  mixed  in  it  so  I  took  you  for 
one  of  'em.  They  had  me  flat  aback  for  a  time 
there  —  I  didn't  know  my  own  name  from  Sally 
Ann's  black  cat.  It  looked  like  the  whole  ship  was 
against  me,  and,  when  I  saw  Harris  go,  I  was  clean 
out  of  soundings." 

I  told  him  that  he  had  realized  the  danger  better 
than  I  did,  and  that  I  had  not  been  hampered  by  the 
sense  of  responsibility  or  the  possibility  of  disgrace. 

"Oh,  I  lost  my  wits  for  a  time  there,  and  we  can't 
get  away  from  it  —  I  was  all  fuddled,  but  I'll  show 
ye  I've  got  more  fight  in  me  than  ye  look  for,  if  ye'll 
see  me  through  with  it." 

"All  or  nothing,"  I  said.  "We'll  give  him  a 
gamble  for  the  whole  pot  now,  and  I  think  it's  time 


176          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

they  got  a  run  for  their  money.  In  my  way  of 
thinking  they  have  had  it  too  easy." 

"That's  business,"  said  Riggs.  "Doggone  my 
cats,  but  we'll  give  'em  some  lead  to  go  with  the  gold 
or  my  name  ain't  Riggs!  We'll  find  out  if  this 
Devil's  Admiral,  or  Thirkle,  or  the  Rev.  Luther 
Meeker,  or  whatever  he  calls  himself,  is  so  bad  as  he 
makes  out  to  be  —  eh,  Mr.  Trenholm?" 

We  shook  hands  on  the  compact,  lying  there  on 
the  sizzling  iron  deck-plates  that  reflected  the  rays 
of  the  sun  in  shimmering  heat-waves,  making  our 
exposed  position  intolerable  after  the  thirst  and 
smoke  and  hunger  we  had  endured  in  the  forecastle. 

"Then  that's  settled,  Mr.  Trenholm.  Now  we'll 
have  to  step  careful  until  I  look  up  what's  left  of  the 
weapons,  and  we  can't  know  what  traps  they've 
laid  for  us  about  here.  Come  on,  and  keep  close." 

We  scrambled  along  the  port  side,  taking  care  of 
our  footing,  for  the  rail-chains  were  stripped  off  the 
stanchions,  and  with  the  deck  at  an  awkward  angle 
there  was  danger  of  slipping  into  the  water.  Captain 
Riggs  led  the  way  up  the  saloon-deck  ladder  and  we 
entered  the  passage. 

The  captain  and  Rajah  went  to  his  cabin,  the  first 
door,  and  I  ran  aft  to  my  stateroom,  hoping  to  find 
my  pistols.  The  room  was  ransacked  and  my  bag 
empty  and  the  pistols  gone.  Some  of  my  garments 
were  thrown  into  the  passage,  and  I  got  a  duck  suit, 
a  pair  of  deck-shoes,  and  a  cap. 


WE  PLAN  AN  EXPEDITION        177 

"Here  are  my  guns,"  said  Riggs.  "Had  'em 
stowed  down  back  of  the  chart-locker  —  three  of 
'em  —  and  you'll  find  a  canister  of  ammunition  for 
that  big  gun  of  yours  in  Mr.  Harris's  room.  That 
gives  us  two  guns  apiece,  and  I  guess  we  can  give 
'em  some  lively  times  if  we  come  across  their  bows 
again." 

We  belted  on  the  weapons  and  hurried  into  the 
saloon,  which  we  found  a  wreck.  There  were  bun 
dles  of  tinned  meat  on  the  table  and  a  litter  of  ropes 
and  bits  of  canvas.  Bottles  of  mineral  water  had 
been  hurled  at  the  bulkheads  and  into  the  sideboard 
mirror.  Curtains  were  torn  down,  table-covers 
gone,  and  the  pivot-chairs  smashed  and  the  frag 
ments  piled  in  a  corner,  partly  burned. 

"They  were  going  to  fire  her,"  said  Riggs,  "but 
that  trouble  with  the  black  gang  and  the  loss  of 
steam  made  'em  change  their  minds.  They  were 
afraid  the  smoke  would  attract  the  attention  of 
some  passing  ship.  That's  once  Thirkle  made  a 
mistake  —  we  never  would  have  got  out  of  her  if  he 
had  left  this  fire  going." 

We  gathered  tins  of  biscuits  and  bottles  of  mineral 
water,  and  had  a  feast  out  of  what  the  pirates  had 
discarded.  Rajah  had  his  kris  in  the  forecastle.  While 
Captain  Riggs  and  I  enjoyed  our  cigars,  Rajah  went 
out  on  an  exploring  trip  through  staterooms  and 
galley  and  in  the  bridge  wheel-house. 

"  It's  near  noon  now,  Mr.  Trenholm,  and  we  ought 


178          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

to  get  away  in  an  hour  or  so.  The  boats  they  left 
are  smashed,  but  I  can  rig  a  raft  with  hatch-covers 
good  enough  to  take  us  to  the  island. 

"We'll  take  plenty  of  grub  and  water,  and  if  they 
don't  give  us  a  fight  from  shore  before  we  land,  we 
can  cache  our  supplies  and  take  our  time  looking  for 
that  sweet  gang.  We'll  keep  out  of  sight  as  much  as 
we  can  before  we  leave,  and  we  might  wait  until 
dark,  but  I'm  for  getting  off  in  jig-time,  unless  we  see 
them  coming  back." 

"I  would  like  to  see  Thirkle  and  the  others  rowing 
out  here,"  I  said,  having  a  mental  vision  of  an  am 
buscade  for  them  as  they  drew  alongside  in  the  boat. 

"It's  ten  to  one  they  will  if  they  ain't  too  busy 
hiding  the  gold  or  having  a  fight  over  it.  All  I'm 
afraid  of  is  they'll  get  away  from  us  in  their  boats; 
but  before  they  leave  it's  a  sure  thing  they'll  take  a 
look  at  the  Kut  Sang  to  see  if  she's  topside  yet,  and 
then  come  out  to  burn  her  —  which  means  stand  by 
to  repel  boarders  for  us. 

"Likely  they've  got  their  eyes  on  us  now,  or  on  the 
ship,  but  we'll  keep  a  sharp  lookout,  and  if  they  come 
snooping  back  we'll  blow  'em  out  of  the  water.  If 
Thirkle  sees  the  steamer  ye  can  Leave  it  to  him  to 
come  back  and  see  how  we  are  and  make  a  clean  job 
of  it.  I'm  not  so  sure  he  didn't  plan  that,  anyway. 
Devil  of  a  fine  joke  we'll  make  of  it  for  him,  if  he 
does  come  out  and  thinks  we're  still  cooped  up  in  the 
fo'c'sle." 


WE  PLAN  AN  EXPEDITION       179 

We  set  about  the  work  of  getting  ready  to  leave 
the  ship,  keeping  to  the  starboard  side,  which  was 
low  in  the  water  and  away  from  the  island.  Rajah 
was  posted  in  the  chart-room  on  the  bridge  with  an 
old  spy-glass  Riggs  dug  up,  and  the  black  boy  kept 
steady  watch  on  the  island  and  the  channel,  with  an 
occasional  turn  to  the  open  sea  in  the  hope  of  raising 
a  vessel. 

The  chronometers  were  gone,  along  with  the  other 
navigating  instruments,  the  log-book,  and  manifests. 
The  cabin  clock  was  stopped  at  twelve,  and  Captain 
Riggs' s  watch,  which  had  hung  over  his  bunk,  was 
missing. 

We  found  two  dead  Chinese  in  the  galley,  bullet- 
splintered  woodwork,  dried  blood,  and  empty  shells 
and  burned  rice  on  the  galley  stove.  The  ship's 
carpenter  had  barricaded  himself  in  his  workshop, 
a  little  deck-house  on  the  after-deck.  The  door  was 
open,  and  we  gathered  that  he  had  deserted  his 
stronghold  when  he  heard  the  water  rushing  into  the 
hold,  but  whether  he  had  been  shot  or  drowned  we 
had  no  way  of  knowing. 

He  had  provided  himself  with  a  bucket  of  rice 
and  bottles  of  water,  evidently  with  the  intention  of 
preparing  for  a  siege.  Spent  cartridges  at  the  head 
of  the  stoke-hole  ladder  told  of  a  desperate  fight 
there,  probably  before  the  attack  on  the  bridge  by 
the  engineer  and  his  men. 

But  we  wasted  no  time  over  these  signs  of  what  had 


i8o          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

happened  during  the  night,  simply  observing  them 
as  we  went  over  the  vessel  to  see  if  any  of  the  crew 
were  in  hiding,  and  seeking  such  things  as  might  be 
of  use  in  building  the  raft. 

All  the  tools  were  carried  forward,  and  I  helped 
the  captain  get  off  the  hatch-covers  of  the  forehold, 
and  he  nailed  them  together  with  planks  from  the  top 
of  the  cargo.  In  this  way  we  made  a  rude  cata 
maran  some  twenty  feet  long  and  five  feet  wide.  A 
plank  was  put  on  its  edge  all  around,  making  a  low 
freeboard  to  hold  our  provisions  and  to  serve  as  a 
protection  against  bullets  in  case  the  pirates  should 
fire  upon  us  while  running  ashore. 

Life-lines  were  fastened  to  the  sides,  so  we  could  take 
to  the  water  in  an  emergency,  and,  with  our  bodies 
partially  submerged,  use  our  pistols  to  good  advantage 
and  offer  poor  targets.  Captain  Riggs  seemed  to 
foresee  every  possible  danger,  and  went  about  his 
preparations  to  meet  the  pirates  as  calmly  and  me 
thodically  as  if  he  were  fitting  out  to  go  on  a  picnic. 

Thirkle  had  taken  every  precaution  to  make  the 
Kut  Sang  another  mystery  of  the  sea,  without  so 
much  as  a  life-buoy  being  found  with  her  name  on  it. 
We  found  the  ring-buoys  hacked  to  bits,  especially 
that  section  of  them  which  had  the  steamer's  name 
painted  on  the  side.  The  name  painted  on  the  two 
smashed  boats  had  been  ripped  from  their  sterns, 
and  everything  that  would  float  was  locked  securely 
in  cabins  or  made  fast. 


WE  PLAN  AN  EXPEDITION       181 

Captain  Riggs  fashioned  a  sail  out  of  a  tarpaulin, 
and  stepped  a  mast  well  forward,  and  with  other 
things  we  took  signal-pennants  and  a  British  ensign, 
and  from  the  foremast  of  the  Kut  Sang  he  flew  a 
signal  of  distress  and  a  message  in  the  international 
code  about  pirates  or  some  such  thing,  so  that,  ia 
case  Thirkle  should  get  away  in  the  boat  and  be 
picked  up,  he  would  have  a  great  deal  of  difficulty 
in  explaining  about  himself  if  the  same  vessel  should 
sight  our  coloured  flags. 

"Take  a  look  and  see  that  the  boy  ain't  busy  up 
there  at  a  nap,"  said  Riggs,  and  I  mounted  to  the 
bridge,  keeping  well  covered  and  to  the  seaward 
side  of  the  chart-house.  Rajah  was  wide  awake, 
lying  just  inside  the  coaming  of  the  chart-room  door, 
chewing  contentedly  at  his  betel,  and  holding  the 
spy-glass  over  the  brass  doorplate  directed  toward 
the  island.  He  grinned  at  me  as  I  entered  through 
the  door  on  the  port  side. 

I  took  the  glass  and  searched  the  horizon  of  the 
sea,  but  there  was  no  sign  of  a  sail  or  a  smear  of 
smoke;  neither  could  I  find  any  trace  of  the  pirates 
on  the  island,  which  had  a  pile  of  volcanic  rock  rising 
out  of  its  northern  end.  I  sought  for  some  sign  of 
human  habitation  on  the  brown,  bare  hills  of  Luzon, 
baking  in  the  sun,  but  that  part  of  the  coast  was  a 
wilderness,  desolate  and  forbidding. 

The  Kut  Sang  was  lying  secure  as  if  in  a  dock, 
sprawled  out  on  the  coral  floor  of  the  sea  like  some 


1 82          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

dead  thing,  her  stern  completely  under  water,  and 
her  port  rail,  almost  to  the  break  of  the  forecastle 
head,  at  the  crests  of  the  gentle  swells.  The  island 
gave  us  a  lee  from  the  strong  current,  but  at  the  first 
sign  of  heavy  weather  she  would  break  up. 

A  school  of  small  sharks  scouted  around  her,  and 
one  big  fellow,  with  his  fin  out  of  water  like  a  trysail, 
loafed  at  a  distance,  as  if  sure  of  his  prey.  The 
combers  purred  on  the  shining  stretches  of  beach, 
and  the  ripples  of  the  current  whispered  at  the  side 
of  the  vessel,  and  in  the  peace  that  surrounded  us 
Riggs's  hammer  made  a  terrific  clatter. 

"Keep  a  sharp  lookout,  Mr.  Trenholm,"  he  called 
up  to  me.  "I've  got  a  job  for'ard  which  must  be 
attended  to  now,  and  I'll  call  for  you  in  a  bit  of  a 
while." 

He  went  down  the  forecastle  ladder  with  his  arms 
full  of  new  canvas,  and  by  the  time  I  had  finished 
another  cigar  he  was  up  again,  beckoning  to  us.  I 
went  below  to  him,  and  he  took  me  into  the  fore 
castle,  and  I  saw  what  I  knew  to  be  the  body  of  Harris 
sewed  up  and  ready  for  burial. 

"I  know  he'd  want  to  go  into  the  sea,  rather  than 
be  buried  ashore  or  be  left  here,  so  I've  done  the  best 
I  could  for  him,"  said  the  captain.  "We'll  take  him 
along  to  deeper  water,  and,  if  you  don't  mind,  we'll 
drop  him  away  from  the  cattle  that  have  gone  down 
hereabout,  and  nothing  will  ever  disturb  him.  I'll 
say  some  sort  of  a  prayer." 


WE  PLAN  AN  EXPEDITION       183 

We  carried  the  body  up  and  got  the  catamaran 
over  the  side  and  stowed  with  food  and  water  and 
cigars  and  such  things  as  Riggs  knew  we  would  need 
if  we  had  to  make  a  camp  on  the  island. 

I  also  wrote  out  a  brief  account  of  what  had  be 
fallen  us  since  leaving  Manila,  closing  with  the  ex 
planation  that  we  were  going  after  the  pirates.  We 
left  this  message  between  the  covers  of  an  old  book, 
and  nailed  to  the  saloon  table,  with  chalk  arrows 
drawn  on  the  floor  and  about  the  ship  pointing 
toward  it.  There  any  person  who  should  board  the 
vessel  in  our  absence  would  find  directions  to  come  to 
our  assistance. 

But  about  the  gold  we  said  nothing,  simply  stating 
that  there  had  been  a  mutiny  and  that  pirates  had 
looted  the  ship,  and  offering  a  reward  of  ten  pounds 
to  each  man  in  the  party  who  should  come  to  our 
rescue,  and  a  thousand  pounds,  or  five  thousand 
dollars,  in  general  to  the  man  who  should  direct  the 
party  to  seek  us  —  this  to  be  claimed  either  by  the 
master  of  the  vessel  or  the  owners  of  the  vessel 
which  furnished  the  expedition. 

Before  embarking  we  had  a  hasty  meal  and  drank 
a  toast  to  our  success  and  the  confusion  of  the  Devil's 
Admiral  and  his  men.  We  looked  to  our  pistols 
and  ammunition,  and,  thrilled  with  the  prospect  of 
battle,  felt  better  than  we  had  since  the  death  of 
Trego. 

As  the  ship  was  listed  over  so  far,  we  had  little 


1 84          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

trouble  in  getting  the  raft  into  the  water.  As  it 
floated  alongside  I  felt  like  giving  a  cheer,  but  as  Cap 
tain  Riggs  had  done  most  of  the  work  and  had  gone 
about  his  tasks  as  dispassionately  as  if  he  were  build 
ing  a  hencoop,  I  stifled  my  emotions  and  held  her  off 
while  Riggs  stepped  aboard. 

We  caught  the  breeze  from  the  land  as  soon  as  we 
cleared  the  steamer,  and  we  rounded  her  bows  and 
headed  for  the  island,  steering  to  pass  the  point  of 
rocks  which  jutted  out  from  the  island  into  the  chan 
nel.  Riggs  said  that  he  would  cut  her  in  toward 
shore,  or  the  coast  of  the  mainland,  before  reaching 
the  point,  unless  the  pirates  showed  themselves. 

"We'll  make  a  northing  up  the  channel,"  he  said, 
"  If  they  think  we  are  getting  away  they  may  take 
after  us  in  a  boat,  or  fire  from  the  shore;  but  if  we 
show  we  are  going  to  land  they  will  keep  hidden  and 
take  us  by  surprise.  If  we  should  head  straight  in 
now  they  would  likely  hide  in  the  brush  and  pot-shot 
us  as  we  laftd  when  we  are  in  the  surf;  but  you  watch 
old  Cap  Riggs,  and  if  we  don't  give  this  Devil's 
Admiral  the  fight  of  his  life  before  this  little  party  is 
wiped  out,  I'll  go  back  on  the  farm  in  Maine.  He 
can't  come  aboard  me  and  perform  like  that  with 
out  getting  paid  for  it  —  Bloody  Thirkle,  Devil's 
Admiral,  nor  nobody  else.  You  watch  my  smoke, 
young  mam." 

The  leg-o'-mutton  sail  pulled  steadily  and  we 
slapped  along  through  the  water  at  a  merry  pace,  with 


WE  PLAN  AN  EXPEDITION        185 

the  water  bubbling  at  the  lee  rail  and  the  ripples 
frothing  up  through  the  seams  in  the  planks.  It  was 
a  wet  craft,  but  we  were  in  our  bare  feet,  with  our 
trousers  rolled  up. 

Rajah  was  in  the  bow  with  his  sarong  twisted  into 
a  belt,  and  his  black  shoulders  and  arms  bare  to  the 
sun,  his  head  swathed  in  a  turban  made  from  a 
faded  green  port-curtain,  giving  him  an  outlandish 
aspect,  reminding  me  of  a  pilgrim  returning  from 
Mecca. 

"We've  got  Johnny  Sharkee  for  an  escort,"  said 
Riggs,  pointing  aft,  and  I  saw  the  fin  of  the  big  man- 
eater  cutting  the  water  in  our  wake.  "If  he  don't 
sheer  off  by  the  time  we  are  ready  to  make  a  landing, 
we  may  have  to  give  him  a  bullet  or  two,  but  I  want 
to  get  in  without  any  racket  if  I  can." 

We  were  soon  in  deep  water,  and  Riggs  made  fast 
his  tiller  while  he  read  a  burial  service  out  of  a  pocket- 
testament,  and  we  dropped  the  body  of  Harris  over 
the  side.  It  was  a  brief  enough  ceremony,  and  I 
was  inclined  to  believe  that  Captain  Riggs  made  it 
altogether  too  much  a  matter  of  little  account,  until 
I  saw  there  was  a  tear  in  his  eye,  and  he  hastily 
used  the  binoculars  on  the  island. 

"Put  your  helm  to  starboard,"  he  directed.  "I 
want  to  keep  screened  behind  the  point  and  gradually 
work  in  toward  shore.  Then  we'll  make  a  quick  run 
for  it  in  near  the  point,  if  they  don't  show  by  the  time 
we  have  the  inlet  on  this  side  of  the  rocks  abeam. 


1 86          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

They  probably  went  around  the  point,  and  we'll 
hunt  for  'em  on  that  side  if  we  can  make  a  safe 
landing." 

We  slopped  along  for  another  while,  and  slowly 
worked  in  until  we  had  the  beach  less  than  five 
hundred  yards  away. 

"Swing  her  for  the  open  sea  again,"  said  Riggs. 
"  I'll  trim  the  sail,  so  if  they  are  watching  us  they'll 
think  we  are  making  a  board  to  run  out.  Keep  low, 
all  hands,  and  at  the  first  shot  drop  to  the  deck  and 
keep  covered,  and  we'll  manoeuvre  out  of  reach  until 
dark.  If  they  press  us,  we'll  let  'em  get  up  close, 
so  they'll  think  we  have  no  weapons,  and  then  we'll 
open  up  on  'em  at  close  range  and  settle  it." 

The  raft  went  about  clumsily  on  the  other  tack 
and  heeled  over  so  that  her  port  side  was  deep  in  the 
water,  which  afforded  us  good  protection  from  the 
island.  We  kept  close  watch  on  the  edge  of  the 
jungle,  but  nothing  menaced  us,  although  the  tangle 
of  brush  and  creepers  might  have  been  full  of  men 
and  we  little  the  wiser. 

"Over  with  the  helm  now,  but  not  too  quick,  and 
hold  her  steady  when  she  stands  for  the  land  and 
don't  get  scared  at  a  little  surf.  Keep  her  head  on 
until  she  grounds,  and  then  take  to  the  water  and 
rush  ashore  with  some  of  the  gear  while  I  get  the 
rigging  down. 

"  See  that  you  keep  your  pistols  out  of  the  water, 
and  dump  the  gear  in  the  brush.  Rajah  will  hold 


WE  PLAN  AN  EXPEDITION        187 

her  steady  while  we  lighten  her  a  bit,  and  then  we'll 
drag  her  in  with  the  swells." 

The  raft  turned  in  a  great  circle  and  plunged  for 
the  rollers  straight  before  the  breeze.  The  captain 
cut  away  the  stays  just  before  she  struck  and  we 
went  into  waist-deep  water  on  a  hard,  sandy  bottom. 
The  heave  of  the  incoming  swells  threatened  to 
break  her  open  in  the  middle  as  she  swung  broadside 
against  the  hard  shingle. 

We  lost  a  few  things  which  didn't  matter  much, 
but,  as  our  matches  and  biscuits  and  spare  ammuni 
tion  were  sealed  in  oil  cans,  along  with  salt  and  cigars, 
most  of  such  stuff  as  broke  loose  floated  ashore  and 
we  saved  it.  Our  chief  difficulty  was  in  saving  the 
small  casks  of  water  and  the  sack  full  of  cooking 
utensils  and  camp  tools. 

I  danced  a  lively  jig  as  I  ran  into  the  burning  sand, 
and  Riggs  had  to  laugh  at  me  as  I  retreated  out  of  it 
and  put  on  my  shoes  while  standing  in  the  water, 
but  he  took  the  same  precaution.  When  we  had 
hidden  our  stores  just  inside  the  fringe  of  the  jungle, 
we  sank  the  raft  close  under  the  ledge  of  rocks  by 
filling  her  with  big  stones ;  and,  while  we  were  busy 
at  this  work,  Rajah  went  up  on  the  point  and  con 
cealed  himself  among  the  boulders  in  a  position 
where  he  could  get  a  view  of  the  beach  beyond. 

We  kept  our  pistols  slung  about  our  necks  on 
shortened  belts,  and,  whenever  the  opportunity 
offered,  watched  the  beach  and  jungle.  We  were 


1 88          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

kept  on  the  alert,  for  we  could  not  shake  off  the  dis 
concerting  feeling  that  we  were  being  watched  from 
the  brush  by  the  pirates,  getting  ready  to  ambush  us 
at  their  leisure  the  minute  we  relaxed  our  vigilance. 

"Look  at  Rajah,"  I  said  to  Riggs.  "He  looks 
like  a  big  red  and  green  and  black  lizard  crouched 
up  there  in  the  rocks." 

"That  black  boy  is  a  big  help,"  said  Riggs.  "The 
lad  has  more  savvy  than  ye'd  think.  He  seems  to 
know  just  what  to  do  in  any  emergency.  And 
fight!  A  mad  Arab  that  I  shipped  in  Aden  made  for 
me  one  day  in  the  Red  Sea.  I  didn't  mind  the  chap 
till  he  was  'most  on  me,  and  a  bit  more  and  he'd 
had  me.  Rajah  got  him  with  the  kris. 

"Lucky  for  Thirkle  the  boy  had  lost  it  last  night 
when  they  had  me  going  over  the  bows!  He  was 
after  Thirkle  then,  when  a  sea  come  over  and  upset 
him,  and  away  went  his  knife  and " 

A  pebble  hit  the  water  near  us,  and  we  looked  up 
to  see  Rajah  wildly  waving  his  arms  to  us.  He  had 
spied  something  on  the  other  side  of  the  point. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE    PURSUIT   ASHORE 

SEIZING  our  pistols  we  hurried  ashore,  and, 
when  Rajah  saw  us  coming,  he  turned  his 
attention  to  the  beach  again  and  levelled 
the  glass  in  the  direction  in  which  he  had  found 
danger. 

The  ledge  was  covered  with  loose  fragments  of 
soft  volcanic  stone,  and  Riggs  and  I  had  to  be  care 
ful  in  making  the  ascent  to  the  top  of  the  ridge,  for 
every  time  we  sought  a  foothold  we  threatened  to 
bring  down  an  avalanche  of  debris,  and,  not  knowing 
what  Rajah  had  seen,  or  how  close  the  pirates  might 
be,  we  were  afraid  of  giving  the  alarm  with  a  crash 
of  loosened  rocks. 

I  gained  the  top  first,  and  bracing  myself  between 
a  couple  of  boulders,  took  a  careful  survey  of  the 
beach  on  the  other  side  before  crawling  over  to 
Rajah.  The  point  was  an  angle  in  the  shore,  and  the 
beach  ran  off  sharply  to  the  left,  five  hundred  yards 
away. 

The  glare  of  the  sun  bothered  me  at  first,  and  I 
thought  the  black  boy  had  given  us  a  scare  for  noth 
ing,  until  I  detected  a  movement  in  the  fringe  of  the 

189 


190          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

jungle  close  to  where  the  shore  line  merged  with  the 
water  of  the  channel.  I  watched  it  closely  for  a 
minute  and  made  out  the  figure  of  a  man  moving 
cautiously. 

Rajah  wriggled  himself  over  to  me  and  I  took  the 
binoculars;  and,  when  I  had  put  the  mon  the  man  in 
the  distance,  I  saw  Buckrow  walking  slowly  in  our 
direction  with  his  head  bent  to  the  ground,  as  if 
searching  for  some  object.  He  was  so  close  in  the 
glass  that  I  could  see  the  stripes  in  his  cotton 
shirt  and  the  buttons  down  the  sides  of  his  navy 
trousers. 

"What  is  it?"  gasped  Riggs,  breathing  hard  after 
his  climb,  and  testing  the  rocks  before  he  climbed  up 
to  where  I  was  perched  between  two  pinnacles  of 
slatey  stone. 

"Can  you  see  anything,  Trenholm?" 

"It's  Buckrow.  He's  acting  queerly,  and  I  can't 
make  out  just  what  he  is  doing.  Take  a  look  and 
see  if  you  can  tell." 

He  took  the  glass  and  studied  the  pirate,  who  was 
loafing  along  in  an  aimless  fashion,  stopping  every 
few  steps  to  scan  the  hills  of  Luzon. 

"He's  taking  bearings  on  that  mountain-peak  or 
some  other  beacon,"  said  the  captain.  "He's  got 
a  small  compass." 

Without  the  glass  I  could  see  Buckrow  get  down 
on  his  knees  in  the  sand  and  put  something  down 
before  him.  Then  he  stretched  at  full  length,  with 


THE  PURSUIT  ASHORE          191 

his  hands  raised  from  his  elbows  to  shade  his  eyes 
from  the  sun. 

"He's  taking  sights  on  the  big  peak,"  said  Riggs. 
"It  looks  to  me  as  if  they  got  a  bearing  on  it  from 
where  they  have  stowed  the  gold,  and  Buckrow 
wants  to  get  the  same  bearing  from  the  beach  and 
leave  a  marker  as  a  middle  point  and  a  guide  to 
where  the  treasure  is  concealed.  The  opposite 
reading  of  the  compass  from  the  bearing  of  the  peak 
would  be  a  leader  to  the  cache.  The  bearing  he 
takes,  extended  behind  him,  will  run  pretty  near  to 
where  the  gold  is  hidden.  He's  particular  as  a 
Swede  skipper  with  that  sight  he's  taking." 

Finally,  Buckrow  crawled  into  the  jungle  again 
and  disappeared.  We  waited  for  a  quarter  of  an 
hour,  keeping  close  watch  on  the  beach,  but  we  saw 
him  no  more. 

"He  made  a  little  beacon  with  three  stones,"  ex 
plained  the  captain.  "I  ain't  sure  just  what  it 
means,  but  Thirkle  ain't  the  man  to  leave  such  work 
to  Buckrow.  You  can  bet  Thirkle  will  know  how  to 
find  the  gold  again  without  asking  Buckrow  for  the 
bearings.  There  is  some  deviltry  afoot,  and  my  best 
guess  is  that  the  pirates  ain't  getting  along  none  too 
well  among  themselves  with  that  treasure. 

"We'll  have  to  scout  along  the  beach  and  pick  up 
their  trail  and  run  'em  down  carefully.  Anyway, 
I'm  glad  they  are  here,  but  we'll  have  to  hustle  along 
now  or  they'll  be  cutting  out  of  this,  and  if  they  get 


192          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

the  boats  into  the  water,  we'll  have  to  let  'em  go  with 
out  a  shot.  That'll  give  us  a  hard  job,  because  we'll 
have  to  take  a  chance  of  leaving  the  gold  to  get  help 
and  having  them  come  back  for  it  while  we're  gone." 

We  were  well  satisfied  to  know  that  the  pirates 
were  on  the  island  and  that  we  had  found  them  before 
they  were  aware  of  our  escape  from  the  Kut  Sang. 
Now  we  had  a  good  opportunity  to  stalk  them  and 
give  them  a  surprise. 

We  scrambled  down  from  the  burning  rocks,  and 
filled  our  pockets  with  extra  ammunition  and  bis 
cuits,  and  each  took  a  small  bottle  of  water.  Our 
clothes  were  well  dried,  and,  altogether,  we  found 
ourselves  ready  for  battle. 

"If  we  can  crawl  up  on  'em  while  they  are  all  to 
gether  and  turn  loose  with  our  pistols  from  cover, 
we've  got  'em,"  said  Riggs.  "The  three  of  us  ought 
to  lay  them  out  before  they  know  what's  up." 

"We  ought  to  even  the  numbers  before  our  pistols 
are  empty,"  I  said.  "Two  of  them  ought  to  drop  at 
the  first  volley." 

"It's  no  quarter,  either,  Mr.  Trenholm,  unless  we 
have  one  of  'em,  so  he  can't  do  any  damage,  and  then 
we  might  give  him  a  chance  to  live  so  he  can  hang. 
But  they'll  have  no  mercy  on  us  if  they  get  the 
upper  hand." 

"I'd  like  to  take  Thirkle  back  to  Manila  alive 
just  to  get  at  his  history." 

"I'd  like  to  get  Thirkle  myself,  Mr.  Trenholm; 


THE  PURSUIT  ASHORE  193 

but  it's  Thirkle  we'll  have  to  get  first  of  all,  if  we  can. 
He's  more  dangerous  than  all  the  others,  and,  as 
you're  the  best  shot,  keep  plugging  at  him  until  you 
get  him.  But  I'm  afraid  it  ain't  going  to  be  so  easy 
as  we  figure  out. 

"One  thing  is  in  our  favour:  they  don't  know  we 
got  out  of  the  Kut  Sang,  and  it's  likely  they've  been 
so  busy  burying  the  gold  they  don't  know  the 
steamer  is  above  water;  but  if  they  get  a  sight  of  her 
before  we  drop  on  'em,  then  we'll  have  a  pretty 
pickle  on  our  hands." 

The  backbone  of  the  point  ran  back  into  the 
jungle  and  we  found  it  a  hot  and  hard  climb  through 
the  tangled  vines  and  thick  shrubbery.  After  we 
had  reached  the  other  side  we  crawled  out  on  the 
beach  and  made  a  careful  reconnaissance  to  the 
north. 

We  progressed  slowly  along  the  rim  of  sand,  where 
the  brush  was  sparse,  allowing  us  to  keep  a  good 
lookout  ahead.  We  went  along  a  few  yards  at  a 
time,  stepping  out  occasionally  to  reconnoitre  the 
sand-reaches  ahead.  We  found  that  the  northern 
end  of  the  island  was  higher  than  we  supposed  at 
first,  a  labyrinth  of  ravines  sloping  down  to  the  sea. 

"We  ought  to  pick  up  the  trail  before  long,"  said 
the  captain.  "We'll  probably  find  the  boats  in 
some  of  these  gullies  where  the  water  comes  close 
up;  but  they  couldn't  very  well  cover  their  tracks  if 
they  pulled  the  boats  out,  and  they  wouldn't  be 


194          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

minded  to  be  so  careful,  not  looking  for  anybody  to 
be  after  them  this  early." 

The  captain  and  I  kept  close  together,  sneaking 
along  with  our  pistols  cocked,  quiet  as  possible. 
Rajah  brought  up  the  rear,  and  in  this  formation  we 
marched  along,  alert  for  danger.  At  times  the  rustle 
of  a  bush  in  the  breeze  put  us  on  our  guard,  and  we 
crouched  down  with  muscles  tense  and  pistols 
raised;  or  the  flutter  of  a  bird  over  our  heads,  or  the 
shrilling  of  an  insect,  or  the  creak  of  a  tree  sounded 
an  alarm  which  would  delay  us.  But  Rajah's  sense 
of  hearing  was  very  keen,  and  whenever  we  stopped 
from  such  sounds  he  would  grin  at  us  and  push  on 
ahead.  We  trusted  a  great  deal  to  his  woodcraft, 
for  he  was  at  home  in  the  jungle. 

Riggs  was  a  few  yards  ahead  of  me  when  I  saw  him 
stop  abruptly  and  motion  me  forward  with  a  gesture 
of  caution.  He  pointed  through  the  bushes,  and  as  I 
crept  up  I  saw  a  white  patch  through  a  tangle  of 
green  leaves. 

"  It's  a  boat,"  he  whispered.  "  It's  here  they  made 
their  landing  and  we'll  have  to  go  slow  now.  Maybe 
Buckrow  or  some  of  the  others  are  about,  sleeping  or 
keeping  watch." 

We  crawled  up  carefully,  letting  Rajah  go  ahead 
to  scout.  We  found  both  boats  hidden  in  a  patch  of 
colgon  grass,  screened  from  the  sea  by  a  rank  growth 
of  vines  and  young  bamboo.  The  boats  were  covered 
with  freshly  cut  palm-leaves  and  a  litter  of  dead, 


THE  PURSUIT  ASHORE          195 

dry  vines  pulled  from  an  uprooted  tree.  There  was 
a  little  inlet  running  right  up  into  the  jungle,  so  the 
pirates  had  had  little  trouble  in  getting  the  boats 
ashore,  using  a  block  and  tackle  on  a  convenient 
cocoanut-palm. 

The  grass  and  bamboo  thicket  were  well  trampled, 
and  we  could  see  the  marks  in  the  moist  ground 
where  the  sacks  of  gold  had  been  piled.  One  of  the 
sacks  had  evidently  burst,  for  we  picked  up  several 
gold  coins  in  the  mud,  and  found  a  sail-needle  in  a 
loop  of  twine  where  they  had  repaired  the  sack. 

"Now,"  whispered  Riggs,  when  we  were  sure 
none  of  the  pirates  was  lurking  about,  "we'll  take 
the  plugs  out  of  the  boats  and  hide  them  and  the 
oars,  and  take  a  look  around  to  see  where  our  lads 
have  gone.  It's  no  easy  job  to  go  very  far  with  that 
gold,  and  they  won't  hurt  themselves  with  work, 
knowing  they  have  plenty  of  time  and  thinking 
there  is  nobody  to  be  after  them." 

We  took  the  oars  and  boat-plugs  quite  a  distance 
away  up  the  beach  and  buried  them  in  the  sand 
opposite  a  tree  of  peculiar  formation,  and  then  began 
to  skirt  the  territory  around  the  boats  to  pick  up  the 
trail  of  the  pirates.  We  found  where  several  bam 
boo  poles  had  been  cut  close  to  the  dry,  rocky  bed  of 
an  old  stream,  and  the  remnants  of  ropes. 

"They  cut  these  poles  to  pack  the  sacks  away," 
said  Riggs.  "Their  cache  can't  be  far  away  and 
we'll  have  to  work  like  cats  now." 


196          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

The  old  water-course  led  back  into  high  ground 
through  a  canon,  and  there  were  unmistakable 
signs  that  the  pirates  had  followed  the  waterway. 
Patches  of  sand  where  pools  had  formed  during  the 
rainy  season  were  full  of  tracks  in  both  directions, 
and  we  knew  they  had  made  several  trips  from  the 
boats  up  the  canon,  and  we  set  out  upon  the  trail. 

We  let  Rajah  take  the  lead  this  time,  for  he  had  a 
way  of  getting  through  the  overhanging  branches 
silently,  and  his  bare  feet  moved  among  the  loose 
stones  and  sand  with  as  little  noise  as  a  snake  might 
make.  Bent  nearly  double  with  his  kris  gripped  in 
his  right  hand  he  kept  in  advance  of  us.  We  might 
easily  have  been  taken  for  pirates  ourselves  as  we 
skulked  along,  with  our  pistols  raised,  crawling  under 
low  bushes,  dodging  behind  tree-trunks,  and  peering 
ahead  into  the  dim  places  of  the  jungle. 

In  spite  of  the  shade  it  was  hot  in  that  ravine. 
Labouring  under  the  excitement  of  the  man-hunt,  and 
suffering  from  loss  of  sleep  and  the  weariness  of  the 
siege  we  had  undergone  in  the  steamer,  the  heat 
weakened  us. 

The  bed  of  the  stream,  full  of  dead  twigs  and  loose 
stones,  in  places  a  succession  of  steps  where  there 
had  been  cascades  in  the  torrential  little  river,  was  a 
hard  road.  It  would  have  been  hard  enough  tc 
travel  with  no  efforts  at  caution,  but  we  were  forced 
to  pick  every  step,  and  keep  bent  low  or  fall  flat  to 
avoid  a  fall  and  racket. 


THE  PURSUIT  ASHORE          197 

Captain  Riggs  made  hard  going  of  it,  and  had  to 
stop  every  few  yards  to  regain  his  breath.  Although 
he  made  no  complaint,  I  suspected  that  his  heart 
was  troubling  him,  for  he  kept  putting  his  free  hand 
to  his  side,  and  when  he  got  out  of  breath  his  face 
took  on  a  purplish  tint. 

"  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to  rest  a  bit,"  he  whispered  to 
me  during  one  of  these  attacks.  "I'll  be  all  right  in  a 
little  while,  but  I'm  too  old  to  keep  up  to  the  pace  of 
you  and  the  black  boy  there." 

He  crawled  into  the  brush  a  few  feet  and  lay  down, 
and  I  saw  he  had  about  reached  the  limit  of  his  efforts 
for  the  day.  He  was  more  exhausted  than  I  had 
realized.  We  called  Rajah  back,  and  while  Riggs 
was  resting  I  went  ahead  a  way,  with  the  idea  of 
watching  for  the  pirates  to  return  and  preventing 
them  from  surprising  us. 

"Don't  go  too  far  or  stay  too  long,"  cautioned 
the  captain,  as  I  set  out.  "We  ought  to  keep  close 
together,  Mr.  Trenholm,  and  fight  together." 

Assuring  him  that  I  had  no  intention  of  leaving 
him  with  Rajah,  I  went  up  the  trail  a  few  rods,  and  as 
I  was  about  to  turn  back  I  saw  a  level  stretch  ahead, 
where  the  trail  of  the  pirates  led  away  from  the  bed 
of  the  stream  into  a  patch  of  high,  thick  grass. 
Thirkle  and  his  men  had  cut  a  narrow  lane  through 
this  grass  by  trampling  down  the  stalks,  and  my 
curiosity  got  the  better  of  my  caution,  and  I  decided 
to  explore  a  little  farther. 


198          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

Stooping  low,  I  ran  through  this  open  space  and 
gained  the  jungle  on  the  other  side  and  found  myself 
near  a  ledge  or  low,  rocky  cliff  that  was  so  overgrown 
with  rank  weeds  and  vines  and  giant  ferns  it  was 
hardly  noticeable  until  I  was  close  against  the 
wall. 

The  cliffside  was  damp  and  green  with  mosses, 
and  the  ground  was  moist  and  springy.  The 
cool  of  the  place  was  grateful  after  the  heat  of 
our  climb  up  the  rocky  bed  of  the  creek.  I  was 
about  to  return  and  urge  Captain  Riggs  to  press  on 
to  this  place  when  I  heard  the  subdued  murmur 
of  voices  away  to  the  right  and  the  swishing  of 
foliage. 

I  was  puzzled  and  alarmed  to  discover  that  the 
voices  were  in  the  direction  I  had  come  from,  or 
back  across  the  trail.  Fearing  that  the  pirates  were 
returning  to  the  boats  by  some  short  route  which 
might  take  them  to  where  Riggs  was  hidden,  I  ran 
through  the  grass  lane  again,  and,  finding  that  the 
persons  I  was  stalking  were  still  farther  away,  I  left 
the  trail  and  sneaked  some  twenty  yards  into  the 
foliage,  anxious  to  see  who  they  were  and  what  they 
were  about. 

They  were  making  slow  progress,  seemingly  going 
a  few  yards,  and  then  stopping  to  talk  in  low  tones, 
when  they  would  go  on  again,  and,  by  moving  ahead 
while  they  were  pushing  through  the  brush  and  pro 
ceeding  with  caution  while  they  stopped,  I  rapidly 


THE  PURSUIT  ASHORE          199 

overtook  them,  although  they  were  a  good  distance 
off  the  trail. 

"Keep  over  to  port,"  I  heard  Long  Jim  say. 
"Mind  them  brambles,  or  ye'll  have  the  eyes  of  me 
bloomin'  well  knocked  out!  I'm  all  skinned  about 
the  neck  from  'eavin'  away  at  these  poles.  Drop  it 
a  bit,  Red." 


CHAPTER  XV 

TWO    THIEVES    AND    A    FIGHT 

THERE  was  a  metallic  thud  as  they  let  down 
a  burden,  which  I  knew  must  be  a  sack  of 
gold.  I  lay  quiet  for  a  minute,  and  then 
began  to  wriggle  through  the  brush  to  get  a  glimpse  of 
them,  and,  in  case  it  proved  to  be  the  camp,  learn 
what  might  be  the  most  advantageous  method 
for  our  attack. 

"My  back  is  broke,"  I  heard  Petrak  whine. 
"What  with  packin'  the  whole  blasted  cargo  into 
the  hills  and  this  jaunt  now.  Why  couldn't  he 
leave  it  close  to  the  beach,  I  want  to  know?  Who 
wants  to  be  packin'  it  out  again  some  day  like  a 
coolie?  Snug  enough,  I  say,  close  down  to  the  water, 
and  who's  to  know?  Think  we  was  buryin'  of  it 
for  Kingdom  Come!  Fine  job  he's  makin'  of 
it!" 

"'E's  no  bloody  monkey,  Thirkle  ain't,"  said  Long 
Jim.  "It's  us  that's  the  bloomink  idiots!  'My 
last  'aul,'  says  'e.  'Your  last  haul,  'ell!'  says  me  to 
him.  I  tells  him  to  mind  the  rest  of  us  'as  a  'and 
in  the  gold  as  well  as  in  the  gittin'  of  it.  Ye  think 
'e's  goin'  to  let  us  in  on  this?  Not  Thirkle,  Reddy. 


Two  THIEVES  AND  A  FIGHT     201 

"It's  every  bloody  man  for  'imself  now,  and  the 
devil  take  the  'indmost,  which  he  will,  I  say. 
Thought  'e'd  'ave  the  whole  of  it  all  to  himself,  did 
he  ?  I  knowed  'e'd  give  us  dirt  when  it  come  to  some 
big  cut  like  this,  and  that's  why  I'm  for  gittin'  mine 
and  goin'  on  with  it  this  wise.  'Eave  up,  Reddy,  and 
skip  for  it." 

I  crawled  up  and  peered  through  the  bushes  just 
as  they  were  shouldering  a  bamboo  pole  from  which 
was  slung  the  sack  of  gold.  They  went  on,  and  I 
followed  them,  confident  that  they  would  lead  me  to 
Thirkle's  camp,  although  the  direction  of  their 
march  puzzled  me;  and  I  could  make  no  sense  of  their 
complaints  other  than  that  they  disliked  the  labour 
of  transporting  the  gold. 

As  I  fell  in  behind  them,  following  almost  in  their 
tracks,  I  discovered  that  they  were  following  no  trail, 
but  were  making  a  new  way  to  the  beach.  And 
when  they  came  to  where  the  going  was  easy  they 
rushed  ahead  in  such  a  panic  that  I  suspected  they 
were  in  flight  from  Thirkle,  and  when  they  began  to 
argue  over  the  direction  they  should  take  I  realized 
that  they  were  running  away  from  Thirkle.  They 
were  stealing  a  sack  of  the  gold  and  making  for  the 
boats  to  escape  with  it. 

"Bear  to  port,  I  say!"  said  Long  Jim.  "Keep  off 
the  old  road,  or  ye'll  have  the  beggar  after  us.  Keep 
to  port  if  ye  know  what's  good  for  us." 

They  let  down  their  burden  again,  and  I  saw  Long 


202          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

Jim  stoop  to  peer  back;  but  I  was  off  on  their  flank 
again,  and  kept  well  concealed. 

I  was  in  a  quandary  now  as  to  what  to  do.  It 
might  be  better  for  us  to  let  them  escape,  for  then  we 
would  have  only  Thirkle  and  Buckrow  to  fight,  and 
a  sack  of  gold  mattered  but  little.  Yet  I  knew  that 
they  might  take  both  boats;  and  then  Captain  Riggs 
and  I  and  Rajah  would  be  marooned  on  the  island, 
except  for  the  raft,  which  was  not  a  fit  craft  to  put  to 
sea  in. 

We  would  be  but  little  better  off  on  the  mainland, 
and  it  would  be  weeks,  probably  months,  before  we 
could  be  rescued  by  a  vessel,  or  could  reach  a  native 
town  on  the  coast.  I  had  a  mind  to  fire  on  them; 
but  I  did  not  know  where  Thirkle  was,  and  I  was 
afraid  of  Captain  Riggs  getting  lost  if  he  set  out  in 
search  of  me  on  hearing  the  shots. 

"Told  ye  that,  did  he?"  asked  Long  Jim.  "Told 
ye  to  do  for  me,  hey?" 

"That  was  the  lay,"  said  Petrak.  "Told  me  he'd 
send  ye  down  the  trail  with  me,  and  to  keep  drawed 
up  close  to  ye;  and  when  I  see  my  chance  to  hook  a 
knife  into  ye,  and  be  sure  and  make  a  clean  job  of  it. 

"But  I'm  no  man  for  that,  Jim.  Mind  when  ye 
split  a  bob  with  me  in  Riccolo's  boardin'-house  in 
St.  Paul's  Square?  I  don't  do  for  no  man  what  split 
a  bob  with  me,  and  we  was  shipmates  before  we 
ever  knowed  Thirkle;  and  we'll  be  shipmates  again, 
Jim." 


Two  THIEVES  AND  A  FIGHT      203 

"With  this  'ere?"  asked  Long  Jim.  "Ye  think 
I'd  look  at  a  bloody  ship  short  of  bein'  owner  myself, 
when  we  get  away  with  this  sack  of  guineas?  It's 
a  pub  for  the  two  of  us  in  Liverpool,  down  near  the 
Regent  Docks,  like  gentlemen,  or  I'm  a  beggar." 

"Blow  me  if  I  didn't  forget  about  the  gold!"  said 
Petrak,  laughing.  "  But  I  meant  it  the  way  of  ship 
mates,  Jim:  and  that's  why  I  couldn't  do  for  no 
such  as  he  said.  'Hook  yer  knife  in  him,  quick  and 
sharp,  under  the  kidneys,'  says  Thirkle  to  me.  He 
says  he'll  make  a  gent  of  me,  being  as  there  would  be 
only  himself  and  Bucky  and  me  left.  There'd  be 
uppards  of  ten  thousand  pounds,  man  and  man,  share 
and  share  alike,  and  all  the  same. 

"That's  Thirkle  for  ye,  Jim  —  that's  Thirkle.  It 
was  all  fine  long  as  we  didn't  make  no  great  hauls, 
just  enough  for  a  bit  of  a  good  time  ashore;  but  now 
we're  rich,  and  he  wants  to  shut  us  honest  chaps  that 
helped  get  it  out  of  the  cup,  up. 

"  I'll  take  this  sack  for  mine  and  split  fair  with  ye, 
Jim;  and  it's  better  than  Thirkle  would  give  the  two 
of  us,  and  I  ain't  sayin'  as  how  he  wouldn't  slit  our 
throats  in  the  bargain  to  get  back  again  what  little 
he  give.  We  best  give  him  a  wide  berth,  and  he'll 
do  for  Bucky,  too;  mind  what  I  say." 

"That  'e  will,"  said  Long  Jim.  "'E's  thick  with 
Bucky  now,  but  mind  yer  eye  when  'e  gits  Bucky 
close  hauled  goin'  'ome.  Think  Bucky'll  ever  find 
'is  way  back  to  this  place?  Thirkle'll  do  for  'im  — 


204          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

right  ye  are,  Red  —  just  as  Vd  done  for  the  two 
of  us,  Red." 

"  Bucky  was  a  good  sort,  too." 

"We  was  all  good  sorts,"  said  Jim.  "We  was  all 
good  sorts  and  fine  men,  Reddy,  when  the  bloomink 
loot  was  coming  and  there  was  windpipes  to  slit, 
and  'e  had  to  'ave  'ands  to  do  the  work  for  'im.  Ye 
mind  what  he  told  me,  Reddy?" 

"What  was  it  Thirkle  told  ye,  Jim?  I'd  give  a 
bob  to  know.  Was  it  about  me,  Jim?" 

"Tells  me  the  same  bloody  thing  'e  told  ye,"  said 
Jim,  shutting  one  eye  and  making  a  grimace  to  im 
press  Petrak. 

"What's  that,  Jim?  I  don't  remember  of  what  ye 
mean." 

"Tells  me  to  do  for  ye  down  the  trail." 

"The  beggar!"  said  Petrak. 

"Gawd  strike  me  blind  if  'e  didn't!  'Take  a 
walk  for  yerself  down  the  trail  with  Petrak,'  he  says. 
'Mind  when  ye  get  a  chance  and  'ook  a  knife  in  his 
kidneys,  and  do  it  neat  and  clean;  and  then  there'll  be 
only  three  of  us  to  cut  this  pile  'ere  three  ways  — 
me,  Bucky,  and  yer  own  self,  Jim.' 

"That's  what  'e  said,  Reddy;  strike  me  blind! 
Like  you  did,  I  says  I'll  do  it.  Ye  see  his  gyme? 
We'd  do  for  each  other  in  a  fight,  and  so  take  the  job 
off  's  'ands.  Buckrow  and  'im  think  it's  done  now; 
but  'e'll  get  Bucky  at  the  last,  too,  or  I'm  a  beggar. 

"That's  'is  gyme,  Red  —  do  for  all  of  us  and  'ave 


Two  THIEVES  AND  A  FIGHT     205 

the  gold  all  to  'imself  —  and  no  sailormen  what  know 
what  Vs  been  up  to  out  'ere  coming  around  to  tap 
on  'is  window  of  a  night  when  Vs  asleep  and  ask  for 
the  price  of  a  drink,  or  Vll  have  the  police  down  on 
'im  and  tell  Scotland  Yard'  e's  the  Devil's  Hadmiral. 
He  wants  the  pile  to  'imself,  and  never  a  bit  more 
does  'e  care  for  the  likes  of  us  than  for  the  throats 
we've  cut  for  'im  for  the  gettin'  of  it  all." 

"Sure,"  said  Reddy.  "He  wants  it  all  for  him 
self,  to  be  a  fine  gentleman  and  a  church  member  and 
have  his  tipple  and  fine  eatin'.  We  better  move  on 
a  bit  now,  Jim,  or  they'll  be  after  us." 

They  shouldered  the  pole  again  and  went  on,  and  I 
followed  them  for  a  time,  trying  to  estimate  the 
position  of  Captain  Riggs  on  the  trail  from  where  I 
was;  but  in  the  excitement  of  following  Petrak  and 
Long  Jim  I  had  lost  my  bearings. 

Their  course  through  the  jungle  had  been  devious 
and  without  much  clearness  as  to  a  general  direction, 
for  first  one  would  advise  one  way,  and  then  the 
other  another;  and  there  were  times  when  they  had 
been  compelled  by  the  brush  and  gullies  to  go  out  of 
their  way. 

But  I  had  a  general  idea  that  by  turning  sharply 
to  the  right  I  might  come  across  the  trail,  and,  even 
if  it  happened  to  be  below  where  the  captain  and 
Rajah  had  stopped,  I  could  soon  come  up  with  them. 

There  was  nothing  to  gain  by  keeping  after  Reddy 
and  Long  Jim,  now  that  I  was  sure  they  were  run- 


206          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

ning  away  from  Thirkle's  camp  rather  than  toward  it. 
I  thought  it  would  be  much  better  to  let  them  go 
than  to  fire  upon  them,  and  so  either  alarm  Captain 
Riggs  or  warn  Thirkle  and  Buckrow  that  there  were 
others  they  had  not  counted  upon  on  the  island. 

Even  Petrak  and  Long  Jim  might  not  get  away 
very  easily  when  they  found  the  oars  and  boat-plugs 
gone.  I  reasoned  that  if  we  could  come  upon  Thirkle 
and  Buckrow,  and  make  short  work  of  them,  we  might 
even  overtake  the  pair  of  thieves  and  capture  or  kill 
them. 

As  we  went  along  the  jungle  thinned,  and  we  came 
into  a  forest  where  the  trees  were  sparse  and  there 
was  little  underbrush;  and,  as  there  was  an  open 
space  ahead,  I  concluded  not  to  cross  it,  but  to  wait 
and  see  them  go  out  of  sight,  and  then  try  to  pick 
up  the  trail.  When  they  entered  the  clearing  they 
dumped  the  sack  and  fell  upon  the  ground,  and  as 
they  lay  looking  in  my  direction  there  was  nothing 
for  me  to  do  but  drop  behind  a  convenient  shrub  and 
wait  for  them  to  go  on  before  I  moved. 

They  lit  cigars  and  fell  to  gossiping,  evidently  in 
some  argument,  for  their  gestures  betrayed  their 
vehemence,  although  I  could  not  make  out  what 
they  were  saying.  They  continued  the  conversa 
tion  until  I  lost  my  patience,  and  began  to  begrudge 
the  time  I  was  wasting  to  no  advantage,  while  Cap 
tain  Riggs  was  probably  fretting  about  me,  and 
might  go  away  to  search  for  me.  I  waited  another 


Two  THIEVES  AND  A  FIGHT     207 

ten  minutes;  but  they  showed  no  disposition  to  go 
on,  and  I  stealthily  began  to  draw  out  of  the  bushes. 

We  had  come  through  a  grove  of  wild  hemp-trees, 
and,  keeping  the  bush  that  had  concealed  me  be 
tween  me  and  the  pirates,  I  crawled  to  one  of  these 
wide-spreading  bunches  of  giganic  leaves  droop 
ing  to  the  ground,  and  managed  to  get  behind  it. 
But  as  I  rolled  under  the  stalks  a  bird  rose  near  me 
and  screamed  shrilly  in  long-drawn  cries  of  alarm,  and 
several  of  its  young,  hunting  for  cover,  set  up  a  racket 
in  the  dead  leaves  on  the  ground. 

I  lay  still  for  a  minute,  hoping  that  the  two  pirates 
would  not  think  anything  amiss;  but  the  mother  bird 
wheeled  above  me,  screaming  and  darting  down,  and 
I  heard  Petrak  and  Long  Jim  cursing  and  running 
toward  me.  I  jumped  up  behind  the  tree,  and, 
looking  through  the  big  leaves,  saw  them  coming 
with  drawn  pistols. 

"Blow  me  if  it  ain't  the  bally  pressman!"  said 
Long  Jim,  stopping  within  a  hundred  feet  and  peer 
ing  through  the  tree.  "That's  Trenholm  there,  or 
I'm  a  Dutchman!" 

"That's  who  it  is,"  I  called  to  them,  cocking  my 
pistol.  "Come  on  and  see  what  you  get!" 

"You're  in  the  Kut  Sang"  said  Petrak  queerly, 
his  knees  shaking  as  if  he  had  seen  a  ghost.  "You're 
dead  in  the  Kut  Sang!" 

"Have  it  your  own  way,"  I  told  him.  "Maybe  I 
am  dead  in  the  Kut  Sang,  along  with  Captain  Riggs 


208          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

and  the  rest  of  them.  For  that  very  reason  you  had 
better  not  bother  with  me." 

I  kept  my  pistol  resting  in  the  hollow  of  a  hemp- 
stalk,  thinking  it  would  be  better  not  to  let  them 
know  I  had  a  weapon,  for  I  knew  they  had  no  more 
relish  for  using  their  firearms  than  I  did.  If  I  showed 
the  gun  to  them  they  would  then  keep  in  cover,  and 
could  attack  me  from  two  sides. 

If  I  could  keep  it  a  short-range  fight,  I  had  the 
advantage  as  long  as  I  held  the  tree  against  them,  and 
they  would  not  hesitate  to  expose  themselves  to  my 
fire. 

"What  ye  doin'  of  'ere?"  demanded  Long  Jim. 
"Where's  the  skipper  and  all  the  rest  we  left  aboard  ? " 

"That's  for  you  to  find  out,"  I  said.  "You 
wouldn't  shoot  a  helpless  man,  would  you  ?  " 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  he  grinned.  "Come  on  out  and 
'ave  a  bit  of  a  parley." 

He  let  his  pistol  drop,  and  he  and  Petrak  ex 
changed  glances  which  betrayed  their  glee  at  having 
me  in  their  power,  as  they  thought. 

"Go  away  and  let  me  alone,"  I  said,  simulating 
fear  of  them.  "I  don't  want  to  have  anything  to 
do  with  you.  Leave  me  alone." 

"Ye  was  a  follerin'  of  us,"  said  Long  Jim. 
"Where  the  bloomink  'ell  ye  been?  Ye  seen 
Thirkle?" 

"Where  is  Thirkle?" 

"Where  ye'll  never  clap  eyes  on  'im,  ye  can  be 


Two  THIEVES  AND  A  FIGHT     209 

bloody  well  sure  of  that.  Cut  round  t'other  side  of 
'im,  Red,  and  we'll  settle  'is  'ash!" 

Petrak  started  off  to  the  left  of  him  to  circle  and 
get  behind  me,  and  Long  Jim  began  to  draw  near, 
cocking  his  pistol  again  and  raising  it  and  leering 
at  me. 

"Don't  ye  turn  about  or  move!"  he  said.  "Turn 
yer  'ead  and  yer  a  dead  'un!" 

He  was  within  five  yards  of  me,  and  I  saw  him 
making  a  signal  to  Petrak,  who  was  approaching 
me  from  behind.  I  glanced  back  quickly  and  saw  the 
little  red-headed  man  stealing  up  on  me  with  his 
knife  on  his  hand. 

I  lifted  the  pistol,  and  saw  Long  Jim  stop  and  open 
his  mouth  in  surprise.  I  fired  at  the  triangle  of  his 
naked  breast  where  the  shirt  was  unbuttoned  from 
the  neck.  He  curled  over  backward,  as  if  broken  in 
the  middle,  and  fired  his  pistol  straight  up  into  the 
sky  and  then  lay  still. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE    GOLD   AND   THE    PIRATES 

CERTAIN    that    Long    Jim    was    dead,    I 
turned  on  Petrak  and  presented  my  pistol 
at  him.     The  little  fiend  was  surveying  me 
blankly,  taken  aback  at  the  sudden  shot.     He  stood 
within  twenty  paces  of  me,  with  his  legs  wide  apart 
and  his  knees  bent  as  if  he  were  on  the  deck  of  a 
plunging  vessel,  dismay  on  his  face  and  the  blade  he 
had  intended  for  my  back  held  limply  before  him. 

I  could  see  the  butt  of  a.  big  pistol  hanging  from  his 
belt  in  a  holster  he  had  made  from  the  top  of  an  old 
shoe,  but  he  made  no  motion  to  reach  for  it.  The 
fingers  of  his  left  hand  were  twitching,  splayed  out 
as  if  from  fear,  and  his  mouth  was  open  showing  his 
yellow  teeth. 

"If  you  move  I'll  kill  you!"  I  said,  having  a  mind 
to  take  him  and  compel  him  to  lead  Riggs  and  me  to 
Thirkle's  camp. 

"Don't     shoot!"     he    whined.     "Don't    shoot! 
Where  did  ye  git  the  gun,  sir?     We  never  knowed  as 
how  ye  had  it.     Don't  shoot,  Mr.  Trenhum!     Ye 
mind  how  I  took  yer  luggage  aboard!" 

"Where's  Thirkle  and  Buckrow?"  I  demanded. 

2IO 


THE  GOLD  AND  THE  PIRATES    211 

"Up  there,"  he  said,  swinging  his  free  hand  in  the 
direction  we  had  come,  and  I  saw  the  familiar  crafty 
look  come  into  his  eyes. 

"How  far?" 

"Quite  a  bit,  sir;  in  a  cut  of  a  clift  with  the 
booty." 

"How  far?" 

"Not  far  it  ain't,  Mr.  Trenhum.  Roundaboutish, 
but  not  far;and  I'm  thinkin'I  might  lead  ye  on  to  'em, 
sir,  if  ye'd  let  me  have  the  sack  we  had,  sir.  Ye 
done  for  Jim  right  enough,  but  that's  my  sack  now." 

"Throw  down  that  knife  and  unbuckle  your  belt, 
and  see  that  you  don't  reach  for  a  pistol,"  I  said. 

There  was  something  in  his  manner  that  led  me 
to  believe  he  had  a  trap  for  me;  either  he  had  seen 
Long  Jim  move,  or  thought  Thirkle  and  Buckrow 
might  come  down  upon  us  if  he  could  keep  me  talking. 

He  dropped  the  knife,  and  as  he  reached  for  the 
buckle  of  the  belt  I  turned  my  head  in  an  involun 
tary  movement  to  make  sure  that  Long  Jim  had 
not  recovered,  an  action  bred  by  the  suspicious  man 
ner  of  Petrak.  The  pirate  was  lying  as  he  had  fallen, 
with  his  arms  over  his  head  and  his  pistol  a  yard 
away;  but  the  little  red-headed  man  turned  and  ran 
in  the  flash  of  my  eye.  I  fired  at  him  as  he  scur 
ried  behind  a  sprawling  hemp-tree,  but  missed;  and 
he  never  stopped,  and  I  stood  and  listened  as  he 
crashed  through  the  brush. 

It  would  have  been  senseless  to  pursue  him.     As 


212          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

he  had  kept  on  toward  the  beach,  away  from  the 
direction  of  Thirkle's  camp,  I  knew  he  was  not  going 
back  to  the  others,  and  reasoned  that  he  would 
hardly  dare  to  return  to  Thirkle,  who  had  probably 
missed  the  sack  of  gold,  or  would  demand  explana 
tions  which  Petrak  would  have  difficulty  in  giving. 

I  picked  up  the  knife  and  went  and  looked  at 
Long  Jim.  Seeing  he  was  dead  I  took  his  pistols; 
but  gave  him  scant  attention,  being  afraid  Thirkle 
or  Buckrow  might  be  about,  investigating  the  sound 
of  the  shots.  Petrak's  estimates  on  the  distance  of 
their  hiding-place  had  been  rather  vague. 

I  turned  away  to  the  west  in  the  direction  I  felt 
sure  the  trail  must  be,  and,  when  the  ground  was 
clear,  ran  as  fast  as  I  could.  I  made  about  half  a 
mile  in  as  straight  a  line  as  I  could,  and  then  began  to 
worry;  for,  although  the  ground  had  sloped  in  front 
of  me,  I  felt  that  I  should  have  crossed  the  bed  of 
the  stream  which  was  the  trail  we  had  followed. 

I  kept  on,  my  face  and  hands  scratched  by  prickly 
vines  and  my  clothing  torn  by  fighting  th  rough  th  ickets, 
and  a  panic  began  to  grow  on  me  that  I  was  lost, 
although  I  refused  to  admit  it.  I  soon  had  to  stop 
running  from  exhaustion,  the  torment  of  the  heat 
and  thirst;  and  the  four  big  pistols  dragged  at  my 
belt  and  the  ammunition  in  my  pockets  began  to 
hang  heavy.  I  began  to  fear  that  darkness  would 
come  on  before  I  could  find  the  trail. 

Despair  began  to  get  the  upper  hand,  when  I 


THE  GOLD  AND  THE  PIRATES    213 

caught  the  dull  boom  of  a  pistol-shot,  and  it  so  star 
tled  me  that  I  could  not  decide  the  direction  it  came 
from.  I  stopped  to  listen,  afraid  that  Thirkle  had 
found  Captain  Riggs  and  Rajah. 

Soon  there  was  another  report,  and  then  a  third, 
and  what  puzzled  me  most  was  that  they  seemed  to 
be  just  where  I  had  come  from.  The  echoes  came 
back  to  me  from  the  hills  and  died  away  in  dismal 
reverberations  in  the  jungle.  It  seemed  to  be  some 
signal,  but,  whether  from  the  captain  or  Thirkle,  I 
had  no  way  of  knowing. 

I  was  tempted  to  fire  a  shot  in  reply,  but,  deciding 
to  wait  for  another,  I  turned  in  my  tracks  and 
started  back,  although  not  on  the  same  trail  I  had 
come  over,  but  to  the  right  of  it. 

I  blamed  myself  for  leaving  the  captain,  for  I 
should  have  kept  with  him,  no  matter  what  hap 
pened.  I  had  made  a  fine  mess  of  my  scouting  trip, 
but  found  some  excuse  for  myself  in  the  fact  that  I 
did  right  in  following  Long  Jim  and  Petrak,  and  had 
a  good  reason  to  believe  that  they  were  going  to  the 
pirate  camp. 

I  tried  to  reason  out  the  significance  of  the  three 
shots  I  had  heard.  They  might  mean  that  Captain 
Riggs  had  fired  on  Thirkle,  or  that  Thirkle  had  fired 
on  him.  In  a  kind  of  frenzy  at  my  own  helpless 
ness  I  figured  the  various  combinations  of  the  three 
shots  as  I  went  along,  but  all  the  time  I  was  in  a 
frantic  haste  to  find  the  trail. 


THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 


Finally  I  found  the  dry  bed  of  a  little  stream;  but 
a  careful  search  showed  no  signs  of  any  person  having 
been  over  it,  and  it  seemed  to  me,  in  my  upset  sense 
of  direction,  that  it  should  lead  the  other  way. 
But,  remembering  that  I  had  left  the  bed  of  the  creek 
to  follow  Long  Jim  and  Petrak,  I  came  to  the  con 
clusion  that  the  pirates  had  abandoned  the  creek,  or 
had  turned  off  from  it  to  cache  the  gold. 

I  started  down  it,  hoping  that  it  was  the  one  which 
would  lead  me  to  the  captain.  My  courage  was 
freshened,  and,  taking  a  slow  trot  jumping  from 
stones  to  the  hard  sand,  dodging  over-hanging 
branches,  and  scrambling  up  on  the  banks  to  avoid 
creepers,  I  covered  a  great  deal  of  ground  in  a  short 
time.  I  kept  close  watch  on  the  clear  spaces  for 
tracks,  and  carried  my  two  pistols  in  the  front  of  my 
belt,  Long  Jim's  pair  well  behind. 

I  was  running  and  jumping  along  in  this  way,  as 
quietly  as  possible,  when  I  heard  a  low,  peculiar  gruff 
growl.  I  stopped  in  my  tracks  and  listened.  Crawl 
ing  into  the  bushes  I  rested  on  my  knees  with  a  pistol 
in  each  hand,  my  mouth  wide  open  so  as  to  breathe 
silently,  for  I  was  panting  from  my  flight. 

"Ye  didn't  look  to  Bucky  for  this,  did  ye?"  I 
heard  Buckrow  say,  so  close  at  hand  that  it  startled 
me.  There  was  no  reply  to  his  question,  and  after 
a  few  minutes  I  crawled  toward  him.  I  found  my 
self  in  an  outcrop  of  volcanic  rock,  and  beyond  the 
face  of  a  sheer  ledge.  The  soil  was  moist  ten  feet 


THE  GOLD  AND  THE  PIRATES    215 

away  from  the  bed  of  the  stream,  and  bamboo  and 
the  thick,  coarse  colgon  grass  was  as  high  as  my 
shoulder. 

Keeping  well  hidden  in  the  bamboo  and  grass  I 
crept  to  a  high  spot,  and  right  under  the  edge  of  the 
cliff  I  ssaw  Thirkle  sitting  on  a  sack  of  gold,  with  his 
hands  across  his  knees,  holding  a  piece  of  rope  and 
gazing  down  at  it  as  if  in  doubt  what  to  do  with  it. 
His  bare,  bald  head  was  bowed  low. 

Buckrow  was  lying  in  front  of  him,  with  his  chin 
propped  in  his  hands.  He  was  smoking  a  cigar  and 
looking  at  Thirkle.  Behind  them  were  piled  the 
sacks  of  gold,  close  to  a  wide  crack  in  the  cliff,  a  sort 
of  canon,  wide  enough  for  a  man  to  enter,  and  over 
grown  at  the  top  with  brush  and  green  fronds,  for 
the  cliffside  was  wet  and  dripping,  and  veiled  with 
mosses. 

"Got  it  in  yer  old  skull  that  Bucky  was  a  fool, 
hey?"  said  Buckrow,  blowing  a  cloud  of  smoke  at 
Thirkle.  "Well,  I'm  Bad  Buckrow,  and  I  was  Bad 
Buckrow  afore  ever  I  saw  ye,  and  I  had  a  bit  of  brains 
of  my  own  afore  ever  I  met  up  with  ye,  Thirkle.  Ye 
can  bear  that  in  mind.  See  how  ye  come  out  when 
ye  monkeyed  with  me.  Them  other  two  fools  went 
off  in  the  wood  and  plugged  one  another,  but  that 
ain't  me,  Thirkle.  Yer  sharp,  Thirkle;  ye  always 
was  a  sharp  one,  but  ye  ain't  sharp  enough  for 
Bucky,  and  it's  me  that's  tellin'  ye  that." 

Thirkle  made  no  reply,  but  kept  his  head  down, 


216          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

staring  at  the  rope  in  his  hands,  as  if  he  were  con 
sidering  some  weighty  problem. 

"Wanted  it  all,  hey?"  went  on  Buckrow. 
"Think  I'm  goin'  to  put  my  neck  in  a  rope  for  ye 
and  then  let  ye  hog  it  all,  hey?  Maybe  ye  can  fool 
the  others,  but  I'm  Bad  Buckrow,  I  am,  and  I  don't 
let  the  like  of  you,  Mr.  Thirkle,  hang  nothin'  on  me 
-  leastways,  not  so  easy  as  ye  looked  for.  Why, 
I  had  my  eye  on  ye  and  every  move  ye  made  after 
ye  sent  Reddy  and  Jim  away  to  slit  one  another's 
throats!  Thought  I'd  fall  for  it,  did  ye?  See  what 
come  of  it?  Ye  see,  don't  ye?  I'm  Bad  Buckrow." 

Thirkle  moved  uneasily  and  cleared  his  throat, 
but  did  not  lift  his  head  or  give  any  answer.  But, 
when  he  put  his  head  to  one  side  and  shook  it,  I  saw 
a  red  patch  on  his  scalp  over  his  right  ear,  and  a 
smear  of  blood  down  his  cheek.  Then  I  realized 
that  the  rope  over  his  hands  made  him  a  prisoner, 
and  that  Buckrow  had  turned  against  him. 

"Wanted  to  do  for  me  too,  did  ye.  I  knew  yer 
game,  old  boy!  I  saw  them  eyes  of  yours  on  me, 
and  murder  in  'em,  and  it's  me  ought  to  know  when 
ye  plan  to  cut  a  man  down  —  I  know  Thirkle. 

"Knew  ye'd  turn  on  me  some  day  this  way  when 
we  made  it  rich.  The  lot  of  it  was  small  pickin',  but 
here's  half  o'  London  under  our  feet  to  be  split  four 
ways;  but  ye  wanted  it  all,  and  ye  wanted  us  out  of 
yer  way  so  ye  could  sleep  o'  nights.  Nice  game  it 
was.  Fine  gent  ye'd  be,  with  all  of  us  dead  here, 


THE  GOLD  AND  THE  PIRATES    217 

and  nobody  to  ever  tell  who  Thirkle  was,  or  about  the 
Kut  Sang,  or  the  others. 

"Get  away  in  the  boats,  ye  would,  and  come  back 
some  day  for  the  gold  and  then  cut  it  for  London, 
prayin'  yer  way  out  of  the  country,  and  folks'd 
wonder  what  come  of  the  Devil's  Admiral  and  his 
crew  when  no  more  ships  was  lost  the  way  we  made 
'em  go." 

"Don't  worry  me,  Bucky,"  said  Thirkle  quietly. 

"Don't  worry  of  ye!  Don't  bother,  Thirkle. 
Yer  sharp,  but  yer  good  as  dead  now.  It's  me  that'll 
be  the  fine  gent  and  wear  walkin'-about  clothes, 
and  have  my  drink  and  comfort,  and  nobody  to  split 
on  me.  I'll  play  yer  own  game,  and  leave  ye  here 
to  rot.  How  like  ye  that,  Thirkle  ? " 

"Ye  are  on  the  wrong  tack,  Bucky,"  he  said 
quietly,  without  lifting  his  head.  "Dead  on  the 
wrong  tack  and  shoal  water  ahead." 

"Nasty  weather  ahead  for  you,  Thirkle  —  never 
fret  about  Bucky." 

"Dead  on  the  wrong  tack,"  repeated  Thirkle,  as 
if  talking  to  himself.  "I  looked  to  you  for  better 
than  this,  and  trusted  you  too.  I  wanted  to  play 
fair  with  ye,  Bucky,  because  ye've  got  brains,  which 
a  man  wouldn't  think  to  hear  ye  now." 

"Brains  enough  not  to  be  cut  down  like  a  bullock 
by  Thirkle,  when  the  last  comes  to  the  last." 

"Reddy  and  Jim  were  not  fit  men  to  trust  with  a 
heap  of  gold  like  this,  Bucky,  and  it's  you  that  know 


218          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

the  truth  of  what  I  say.  They  would  have  the  whole 
thing  cut  open  in  a  week  once  they  got  into  some  port 
with  their  pockets  full  of  sovereigns  and  their  skins 
full  of  rum,  and  their  mouths  full  of  babble  in  the 
public  houses  of  their  wealth  and  how  smart  they  be. 

"First  we'd  know  Petrak  would  be  telling  how  we 
took  the  Southern  Cross  and  the  Legaspi  and  the 
Kut  Sang,  best  of  all,  and  last.  Now  wouldn't  that 
be  the  way  with  him  once  he  got  at  the  gin?  Hey, 
Bucky?" 

"He  could  be  watched  and  his  lip  kept  shut,"  said 
Buckrow. 

"Would  you  want  to  trust  yer  neck  to  Petrak  s 
close  lip?  Tell  me  that,  Bucky.  Could  ye  sleep 
with  Petrak  and  his  bragging,  and  Long  Jim  and  his 
bragging,  and  the  two  of  'em  whispering  together, 
considering  the  friends  they  make  when  drunk. 
Why,  Bucky,  man !  Long  Jim  would  tell  the  whole 
tale  to  a  barmaid  for  a  smile,  as  he  come  near  telling 
that  girl  in  Malta,  with  the  whole  Mediterranean 
fleet  ashore  in  Valetta. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  me  we'd  been  in  a  jam,  what  with 
the  stories  that  were  going  the  rounds  about  us  then, 
and  a  P.  O.  out  of  the  Implacable  trying  to  chum 
with  me.  I  wanted  to  play  fair  with  ye,  Bucky, 
because  yer  too  smart  to  let  the  drink  get  the  better 
of  ye  —  but  what's  the  use.  I  don't  want  to  argue 
with  ye.  Go  on  and  play  it  alone  if  yc  think  ye 
can." 


THE  GOLD  AND  THE  PIRATES    219 

"Well,  right  ye  are,"  said  Buckrow  scornfully. 
"That's  the  true  words  ye  speak  now,  Thirkle.  Ye 
don't  want  to  argue  with  me.  Right-o  —  a  man  can't 
argue  with  cold  steel  —  and  what's  more,  ye  won't, 
if  I'm  Bad  Buckrow.  I  know  ye've  got  a  smooth 
lingo  when  ye  get  in  a  trap,  but  ye  can't  squirm  out 
this  time.  I'll  hold  the  weather  of  ye  this  commis 
sion,  Thirkle." 

"Ye'll  never  get  away  with  it,  Bucky.  It  takes 
more  brains  than  ye've  got  to  handle  half  a  ton  of 
gold.  Not  that  ye  ain't  got  the  brains  so  much  as  ye 
don't  know  how  to  handle  'em.  There's  many  a 
man  foremast  with  more  brains  than  his  skipper,  but 
that  don't  make  him  skipper." 

"It  don't  take  no  skipper  to  handle  cargo  of  this 
sort,"  said  Buckrow. 

"Ye  can't  do  it  alone,  Bucky.  How  about  coming 
back  for  it?  What'll  ye  tell  the  crew  that  comes 
back  with  ye?  Didn't  I  plan  it  all  out  to  get  it?  I 
planned  this  job  and  made  fair  weather  of  it, 
didn't  I? 

"You  and  the  others  couldn't  done  it  alone,  you 
know  that.  Well,  ye  won't  get  away  with  it,  ye  can 
be  sure  of  that.  It  isn't  in  ye,  Bucky,  to  do  the  job. 
The  hardest  is  to  come  yet,  as  ye'll  see  when  ye  go 
about  getting  this  away  all  clear." 

"Never  ye  fret  about  me,  Thirkle.  I  turned  a 
couple  of  tricks  afore  ever  I  crossed  yer  bows,  lay  to 
that.  I  ain't  the  dog  of  a  sailor  ye  take  me  for.  I  was 


220          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

a  gent  once,  and  I'll  be  a  gent  again,  and  no  thanks  to 
ye,  Thirkle.  It  don't  take  no  brains  to  spend  a 
guinea  at  a  time,  even  if  a  man  knows  he  has  a  house 
full  of  Jem,  and  I  can  be  respectable,  too,  and  take 
my  drink  alone  in  my  own  house." 

"  I'll  grant  ye  are  no  fool,  Bucky.  It  all  looks  nice 
and  easy,  but  who  took  ye  out  of  the  gutter  in  Sara 
wak?  Where  would  ye  be  to-day  if  it  wasn't  for 
Thirkle?  Tell  me  that,  Bucky?" 

Buckrow  puffed  at  his  cigar  a  minute,  and  seemed 
to  consider  the  matter  before  replying. 

"I  was  down  and  out  right  enough  then,  Thirkle, 
but  I  ain't  the  kind  to  stay  down  long,  Thirkle. 
What  with  fever  and  jail,  and  a  bad  cut  in  the  hip, 
I  was  in  a  bad  way,  but  no  fault  of  mine,  only  my 
cussed  luck.  I've  had  my  hard  goin'  in  my  life,  and 
now  I'm  to  take  it  snug." 

"The  hangman  was  around  the  corner  that  time 
in  Sarawak,  and  close-hauled  on  a  course  that  would 
fetch  him  alongside  ye  in  no  time,"  said  Thirkle, 
looking  up  and  smiling  wearily. 

"Never  ye  mind  about  the  hangman,  Mr.  Thirkle! 
He  was  around  the  corner  with  ye,  too,  for  that,  and 
more  than  once.  Ye  mind  Hong-Kong?  Who 
saved  ye  from  the  hangman  in  Hong-Kong?  I  ask 
ye  that.  It  was  Bucky;  but  that  had  no  stop  on  ye 
here  when  ye  planned  to  do  for  me.  I  saved  ye 
from  the  hangman,  too,  and  now  the  score  is  even, 
and  ye  can't  whine  if  I  come  yer  own  game  on  ye." 


THE  GOLD  AND  THE  PIRATES    221 

"  I  don't  deny  ye  served  me  a  turn  in  Hong-Kong, 
Bucky,  and  that's  why  I  was  to  play  fair  and  above 
board  with  ye  here.  Ye  think  ye  know  me,  and  who 
I  am,  and  who  I  was,  but  ye  don't,  Bucky,  and  if  ye 
did  ye'd  have  more  thought  about  what  yer  up  to 
here.  Thirkle  Pm  known  as,  and  as  Thirkle  I'll  die, 
and  I'm  rough  in  my  ways  and  language  because  I 
have  fallen  into  those  ways  with  my  men. 

"When  I'm  a  sailor  I'm  as  sailors  are,  and  when 
I'm  a  parson  I  know  how  to  play  it,  but  ye've  never 
seen  me  as  a  fine  gentleman.  Maybe  ye'd  like  to 
know  who  I  was  before  I  was  Thirkle  and  got  to  be 
the  Devil's  Admiral,  as  they  call  me  for  the  want  of 
something  better,  seeing  I  have  played  my  game 
careful  and  kept  them  all  in  the  dark." 

"It's  naught  to  me  who  ye  was  or  are,  Thirkle. 
Ye  can't  oil  me  out  of  it  with  all  yer  fine  talk  — • 
I'm  to  do  for  ye  when  I'm  minded,  and  yer  slick  talk 
can't  save  ye." 

Buckrow  got  up  and  slung  a  rope  over  his  shoul 
ders  and  began  to  make  a  sling  so  that  he  could 
balance  a  sack  of  gold  on  each  end  of  it. 

"I  was  an  officer  in  the  navy,  Bucky,"  said 
Thirkle,  with  a  sly  grin. 

"An  officer!"  exclaimed  Buckrow,  halting  in  his 
work. 

"An  officer  in  the  navy  with  the  queen's  com 
mission  at  my  back  and  an  admiral's  flag  ahead," 
said  Thirkle,  pleased  with  the  impression  he  had 


222          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

made.  "That's  what,  Bucky.  Now  ye  see  I  was 
the  lad  to  finish  the  job  here  in  fine  style.  That's 
why  I  can  get  away  with  this  gold,  which  you  can't. 
I  can  show  a  wad  of  five-pound  notes  and  not  have 
Scotland  Yard  at  my  heels,  or  charter  a  ship  and 
crew  and  go  about  it  businesslike,  and  take  my  time 
at  it. 

"Nice  job  ye'll  make  of  it,  coming  back  here  for 
this  gold.  You've  got  the  whip  hand  now,  and  I'll 
let  it  go  at  that;  but  when  they've  got  ye  on  the 
gallows,  which  they  will,  remember  what  Thirkle 
told  ye,  sitting  here  in  the  thick  of  it,  which  ye  think 
ye'll  spend  for  high  life  in  London.  Before  ye  ever 
get  it  to  London  ye'll  find  it's  another  tune  ye'll 
play.  Maybe  ye  think  ye  can  fill  a  ship  with  gold 
and  sail  to  the  dockhead  and  lift  it  out  and  let  it  go 
at  that  —  they'll  take  the  gold  and  hang  you,  that's 
what. 

"No  doubt  ye  think  the  owners  of  this  gold  won't 
have  a  word  to  say  when  they  find  the  Kut  Sang 
overdue.  Maybe  ye  think  the  looting  of  her  was  the 
easiest  part  of  it;  but  ye'll  find  murder  is  easy,  while 
keeping  it  quiet  is  another  tale  and  another  trick. 
Any  man  with  a  knife  can  go  out  and  stab  a  man  in  the 
back,  but  he  finds  what  comes  after,  the  worst  of  it. 

"It  looks  easy  to  ye  because  we  got  away  with  the 
Southern  Cross  and  the  Legaspi  —  but  when  ye 
mount  the  gallows  ye'll  see  the  best  of  old  Thirkle's 
tricks  was  to  keep  his  tracks  clear  and  things  running 


THE  GOLD  AND  THE  PIRATES    223 

sweet.  They'll  take  you  and  wring  it  all  out  of  ye, 
the  whole  murderous  story,  and  swing  ye  from  a 
high  place.  Ye'll  end  on  the  gallows,  Bucky." 

"Never  ye  fret  about  the  gallows.  I'll  get  this 
gold  away  neat  and  clean  if  it  takes  me  twenty  years, 
and  I'm  the  lad  that  can  wait  until  the  time  is 
ripe." 

"Maybe  ye  can,"  said  Thirkle,  "but  all  I  want  you 
to  remember  is  that  Thirkle  said  ye  couldn't,  and 
my  words  will  come  to  ye  when  ye  take  those  thir 
teen  steps  up  to  the  rope.  Just  keep  that  in  mind, 
Bucky." 

Buckrow  made  no  reply,  but  busied  himself  again 
with  the  sling,  and  as  he  got  down  on  his  knees  with 
his  back  toward  me,  I  decided  that  it  was  time  that 
I  took  a  hand  in  the  proceedings.  With  Thirkle 
bound,  I  had  nothing  to  fear  from  him,  and  I  began 
to  draw  myself  up  from  the  ground,  intending  to  get 
on  one  knee  and  then  empty  my  pistol  into  Buck- 
row,  who  was  not  a  dozen  yards  away. 

If  it  had  not  been  that  there  was  a  great  deal  of 
high,  dry  grass,  that  would  crackle  if  I  tried  to  run 
through  it,  I  would  have  attempted  to  rush  in  on 
Buckrow  and  knock  him  senseless  with  the  butt  of  a 
pistol.  But  as  Thirkle  sat  facing  in  my  direction, 
and  there  was  little  chance  of  getting  to  Buckrow 
before  Thirkle  would  see  me  and  give  the  alarm,  or 
Buckrow  hear  me  coming,  I  knew  the  only  thing  to 
do  was  to  kill  or  wound  Buckrow,  even  though  I  had 


224          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

to  shoot  him  in  the  back.  It  seemed  an  unfair  ad 
vantage,  and  nothing  better  than  the  act  of  an  assas 
sin;  but  I  reasoned  that  Thirkle  or  Buckrow  would 
have  little  mercy  on  me  if  I  fell  into  their  power. 

So  I  arose  cautiously,  and,  parting  the  grass  be 
fore  me,  reached  for  my  pistol. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

THE   ART   OF    THIRKLE 

SO   Jim's    done  for,   ye  say,"   said   Buckrow. 
"Good  job  ye  made  of  it  coming  back  this 
way,  and  good  job  for  me  ye  did,  and  the 
worse  for  Thirkle." 

"  Clean  job  all  around,  Bucky,  and  I'm  back 
to  have  my  cut  of  the  pile,"  and  then  I  was 
sure  of  dreaming,  for  that  was  the  voice  of 
Petrak,  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  Petrak  ought 
to  be  millions  of  miles  away,  although  I  could  not 
quite  settle  in  my  mind  just  how  it  was,  except 
that  I  knew  it  couldn't  be  Petrak  speaking  —  I  was 
dreaming  it,  and  yet  I  couldn't  be  dreaming  that 
awful  pain  in  my  head.  I  tried  to  open  my  eyes, 
but  couldn't. 

"Then  the  Kut  Sang  didn't  go  down  at  all," 
said  Thirkle's  voice.  "Nice  job  you  two  will  have 
getting  clear  of  this  place  with  the  gold  now.  Our 
dear  friend,  Mr.  Trenholm  isn't  alone,  I'll  bet  a  hat 
on  that." 

"Bet  yer  hat  with  the  devil  himself  for  all  the 
good  it  will  bring,"  growled  Buckrow.  "This  ain't 
none  of  your  affair,  Mr.  Thirkle,  and  I'll  thank 

225 


226          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

ye  to  pipe  down  and  wait  until  we  ask  ye  to 
talk." 

"What's  up  now,  Bucky?"  asked  Petrak.  "What's 
wrong  now,  and  what's  wrong  with  Thirkle's  head? 
Been  up  — 

"We  got  Thirkle,  too,  that's  what.  He  tried  to 
do  for  me  and  I  sapped  him,  and  there  he  is,  nice 
as  pie.  Wanted  it  all,  he  did,  Reddy.  Don't  he 
look  calm  and  peaceful  there,  with  his  hands  crossed 
like  a  dead  one?  That's  Mr.  Thirkle  for  ye,  all 
nice  and  snug,  so  he  can't  cut  a  man's  throat  when 
a  chap  ain't  minding  of  him.  Tried  it  on  me  no 
sooner  as  ye  and  Long  Jim  was  gone,  and  I  give 
him  what  he  come  for." 

"Blow  me  for  a  blind  beggar!"  said  Petrak,  and 
I  opened  my  eyes  and  saw  the  three  of  them,  Thirkle, 
facing  me,  and  Buckrow  and  Petrak  standing  over 
me  as  I  lay  on  my  back  on  the  damp  ground. 

"That's  Mr.  Buckrow,"  sneered  Thirkle.  "He 
wants  it  all,  Reddy,  and  he'll  play  you  the  same  when 
he  gets  it.  He  wants  it  all,  and  don't  waste  your 
time  counting  up  the  guineas  ye'll  have,  because 
Buckrow  will  have  'em  all,  and  you  and  I  dead  and 
gone  under  ground  hereabouts." 

"So  Thirkle  wanted  to  do  for  ye,  hey,  Bucky? 
Who  looked  for  it?  But  he  ought  to  knowed  better 
as  to  come  any  smart  tricks  with  ye,  Bucky,  and 
we're  pals,  ain't  we,  Bucky?  Say  we're  pals  if  ye 
like  and  I'll  do  my  part." 


THE  ART  OF  THIRKLE          227 

"Pals  we  be,  Reddy,  and  never  ye  mind  enough 
of  what  he  says  to  put  in  yer  eye.  We  can  split 
the  gold  ourselves  and  leave  Mr.  Thirkle  here  with 
this  friend  of  ours.  Ye  know  I'll  play  fair  with 
ye,  Red  —  ye  know  that,  don't  ye  ? ' 

"Sure,"  said  Petrak.  "Here's  my  paw  on  it, 
Bucky,  and  good  luck  to  us  and  long  life  and  merry 
times.  That's  a  heap  of  gold  for  two,  Bucky." 

"Shake  for  a  square  show,"  said  Buckrow,  and 
the  two  villains  shook  hands  across  my  body.  I 
had  closed  my  eyes  again,  but  peeped  through 
partly  opened  lids  as  often  as  I  dared. 

"And  how  come  ye  done  for  Long  Jim?"  asked 
Buckrow,  and  Petrak  moved  uneasily  and  cleared 
his  throat. 

"Jim  played  nasty  with  me,  Bucky.  Never 
looked  to  him  for  it,  but  we  was  down  the  trail  a 
bit  and  he  ups  and  turns  on  me  with  a  knife.  Cussed 
if  I  knows  what  for,  and  I  didn't  have  time  to  ask 
him  particulars,  but  had  to  drill  him,  and  drill 
him  I  did,  as  I'm  no  man  to  stand  for  knife-play, 
and  as  I  was  trotting  myself  back  who  should  I 
come  on  but  the  writin'  chap,  here,  stretched  in  the 
grass,  so  for  a  time  I  thought  he  had  been  stretched 
for  good  when  up  he  pops  and  reaches  for  a  gun, 
and  I  give  him  the  butt  fair  behind  of  the  ear. 

"Lucky  job,  Bucky;  lucky  for  ye  and  lucky  for 
me,  as  he'd  done  for  ye  clean  in  another  turnabout, 
and  then,  with  Thirkle  there  as  he  is,  a  fine  time  I'd 


228          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

had  of  it.  But  it  wasn't  myself  I  was  mindin', 
nohow,  Bucky,  but  you,  as  I  had  my  gun  and 
could  have  drilled  him  after  he  drilled  you;  but 
I  couldn't  stand  to  see  ye  get  it  in  the  back  as  he 
minded  to  give  it.  Lucky  for  ye,  hey,  Bucky?  We 
can  play  fair  on  that  score,  can't  we,  Bucky?  Not 
for  me  and  he'd  have  ye  and " 

"Oh,  stop  yer  whining  and  lying!"  said  Thirkle. 
"It  was  yer  own  pelt  ye  took  care  of,  and  now 
ye  want  to  get  thick  with  Bucky,  but  it  won't  do 
ye  a  bit  of  good,  Reddy.  He'll  do  for  us  all  now; 
but  if  ye  got  any  sense  stir  up  Mr.  Trenholm  here  and 
find  what's  become  of  the  ship  and  his  mates. 

"Step  on  the  gentleman's  neck  and  see  if  he's 
dead.  While  yer  gamming  away  here  ye  don't  know 
how  many  more  are  in  the  bushes  hereabout  with 
guns  ready  to  chip  ye.  Stir  him  up  and  let's  see 
what  happened  to  the  Kut  Sang  that  he's  here  at 
all.  It's  plain  she  didn't  go  down." 

Petrak  kicked  me  in  the  ribs,  and  I  groaned  and 
opened  my  eyes  as  if  I  had  just  recovered  con 
sciousness,  for  I  did  not  care  to  let  them  know  I 
had  been  listening  to  any  of  their  conversation. 

"What's  all  the  trouble?"  I  asked,  looking  about, 
and  then  sitting  up  and  gazing  at  the  three  pirates 
as  if  I  were  still  confused. 

"Everything  lovely,"  said  Thirkle,  grinning  at 
me.  "Your  old  friend,  Mr.  Petrak,  put  you  to  sleep. 
I  am  indeed  surprised  to  find  you  so  well  after  all 


THE  ART  OF  THIRKLE          229 

that  happened  on  board  the  Kut  Sang,  and  your 
belt  there,  which  Bucky  removed,  seems  to  be 
well  filled  with  weapons.  What  became  of  my 
old  friend,  Captain  Riggs?  And  where  is  the  Kut 
Sang?" 

"She  went  down,"  I  said,  knowing  that  my  time 
would  be  short  if  they  knew  the  steamer  was  still 
above  water,  for  every  minute  it  lay  on  the  reef 
there  was  a  possibility  that  it  would  be  sighted  by 
some  passing  vessel.  I  knew  that  if  I  told  them 
it  was  still  there  Buckrow  would  probably  murder 
Thirkle  and  me  and  hasten  away,  either  to  burn 
the  vessel  or  escape  in  the  boats. 

"And  how  did  you  get  away,  and  where  is  Riggs?" 
persisted  Thirkle. 

"I  cut  away  the  forecastle  scuttle  with  a  knife 
and  crawled  through  the  chains  just  as  she  went 
down,  but  Captain  Riggs  could  not  get  out." 

"That's  all  very  fine,"  said  Thirkle;  "but  you 
collected  a  good  deal  of  hardware  out  of  a  sinking 
ship.  How  come  you  with  four  pistols?  And,  if 
my  eyes  serve  me  right,  two  of  those  belonged  to 
Long  Jim." 

Petrak  winked  at  me  at  this,  and  I  took  the  cue. 

"I  found  Long  Jim  dead  in  the  trail  and  took 
his  two  pistols,  and  the  others  were  my  own  which 
I  had  when  I  went  into  the  forecastle,  and  I  had 
hoped  to  use  them  on  some  of  you  fellows,  but  you 
got  the  better  of  me." 


230          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"And  how  did  you  and  Captain  Riggs  get  along 
together?" 

"We  did  very  well  after  I  had  convinced  him 
that  I  had  no  hand  in  the  murder  of  Trego.  You 
gentlemen  certainly  know  your  business,  I  must  say." 

"Oh,  don't  include  me  in  the  compliment,"  said 
Thirkle,  bowing  to  Buckrow  and  Petrak.  "These 
are  the  men  who  are  entitled  to  the  credit  for  the 
success  of  the  expedition  so  far,  and,  now  that  they 
have  the  gold,  they  have  decided  to  dispense  with 
my  services;  and,  whatever  is  done,  I  will  have  no 
further  hand  in  it. 

"We  will  wish  them  luck,  my  dear  Mr.  Trenholm; 
and,  as  we  are  in  the  same  boat  now,  I  trust  that 
what  little  animosity  you  may  have  borne  against 
me  in  the  past  can  now  be  forgotten.  Mr.  Buckrow 
has  the  game  in  his  hands  now." 

"Ye  say  the  Kut  Sang  went  down  clean?"  asked 
Buckrow. 

"Not  a  sign  of  her,"  I  said.  "Captain  Riggs 
and  the  black  boy  went  with  her,  and  I  hadn't 
a  minute  to  spare.  Perhaps  it  would  have  been 
just  as  well  if  I  had  gone  with  her,  too." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Thirkle.  "You  see,  Buck- 
row,  I  told  ye  she'd  go  like  a  lead  and  bury  her 
truck.  I  knew  it  would  be  a  clean  job,  and  now 
ye  can  go  ahead  —  I  quit." 

"Small  thanks  to  you,"  growled  Buckrow. 

"Fine  pair  of  fools  ye'll  make!"  laughed  Thirkle, 


THE  ART  OF  THIRKLE          231 

"Stretch  me,  and  the  two  of  ye'll  hang.  Remember 
that,  Reddy!  The  two  of  ye'll  hang.  It  took 
Thirkle  to  plan  the  job,  and  it'll  take  Thirkle  to 
finish  it.  Mr.  Petrak,  will  you  kindly  look  in  my 
jacket-pocket  over  there;  there's  a  bottle  in  it,  and 
I'd  like  a  bit  of  stimulant." 

Buckrow  and  Petrak  ran  for  the  bottle,  and  both 
took  a  long  pull  at  it. 

"Give  Thirkle  a  bit,"  said  Petrak,  who  still 
seemed  to  have  a  good  deal  of  respect  for  the 
prisoner.  "That  was  a  nasty  smash  ye  give  'im, 
Bucky." 

"Give  it  him,  if  ye  mind,  Reddy,  but  be  polite 
to  him.  He  was  an  officer  in  the  navy  afore  he 
turned  pirate,  Reddy." 

"A  navy  officer?  Thirkle  a  navy  officer?"  asked 
Petrak.  "I  was  a  navy  man  myself  when  I  was 
a  boy." 

He  stepped  to  Thirkle  and  held  the  bottle  to  the 
prisoner's  lips. 

"Was  ye  an  officer  —  a  navy  officer,  Thirkle?" 
he  asked,  somewhat  awestricken  at  the  idea. 

"We  had  a  little  chat,  Mr.  Buckrow  and  myself, 
while  you  were  away,"  said  Thirkle,  after  he  had 
had  his  drink.  "Real  chummy  we  got." 

"Ho,  yes;  real  chummy,  Thirkle!  So  chummy, 
Red,  he  was  ready  to  let  a  knife  into  me,  and  now 
he  says  he  was  in  the  navy;  well  up  to  his  flag, 
too,  and  the  queen's  commission,  all  nice  and  handy. 


232          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

He  thinks  he's  too  nice  to  mix  with  the  likes  of  us; 
he  says  as  how  we  won't  know  how  to  blow  the 
loot  ladylike  and  decent.  Mind  that,  Reddy? 
Ho,  ho,  ho!" 

"It's  this  way,  Reddy,"  explained  Thirkle.  "Our 
old  friend  Bucky  thought  I  was  jealous  of  him,  and 
wanted  it  all  to  myself.  But  I  never  had  such  a 
thought.  Long  Jim  was  the  one  I  didn't  like,  and 
never  did,  but  you  and  Bucky  are  two  after  my 
own  heart  and  - 

"He  likes  us,  Reddy,"  interrupted  Buckrow. 
"He  likes  us  both,  and  you  best;  but  he  likes  us. 
Give  him  another  drink  and  he'll  cry  for  his  sins." 

"Mr.  Buckrow,  I  mean  every  word  I  say," 
declared  Thirkle,  and  he  meant  it,  for  the  shrewd 
rascal  was  talking  for  his  life.  "There's  gold 
enough  here  for  all  of  us,  and  we'll  divide  it  now, 
and  each  take  his  share  and  split  it  to  the  dollar. 
Leave  it  to  me  and  I'll  get  it  off  for  you,  safe  and 
easy;  but  try  to  go  it  alone  and  the  two  of  ye'll 
hang.  Hang!  Understand  that,  Reddy?  The  two 
of  you'll  hang;  and  it's  Thirkle  that  says  it,  and 
Thirkle  knows.  But  Thirkle  can  help  ye  if  ye 
let  him." 

"Taffy  he's  givin'  us  now,  Reddy,"  said  Buckrow, 
seeing  that  Petrak  was  being  impressed  by  Thirkle's 
argument. 

"Ye'll  hang,  the  two  of  ye,"  said  Thirkle.  "Taffy, 
if  ye  like,  Mr.  Buckrow." 


THE  ART  OF  THIRKLE          233 

"They'll  have  to  take  me  first,  and  that's  not  so 
easy  as  ye  make  it,"  blustered  Buckrow.  "Don't 
mind  him,  Reddy." 

"They'll  get  ye,"  said  Thirkle,  nodding  his  head. 
"They'll  get  ye  the  minute  ye  land  anywhere  with 
a  dozen  of  them  gold  pieces.  Where'll  ye  go  with 
it?  That's  what  I  want  to  know.  Where'll  ye 
clear  from?  Tell  me  that.  No  doubt  ye'll  land 
in  Manila  with  a  boat-load  of  gold  and  say  yer 
out  of  the  Kut  Sang,  and  she  went  down,  and  all 
were  lost  but  you  two  and  the  cargo  of  gold.  And 
they'll  let  ye  keep  it  and  send  ye  on  yer  way,  with 
no  questions  asked." 

"Ye  mind  what  he  says,  Bucky?"  Petrak  was 
getting  nervous. 

"Mind  what  he  says,  if  ye  like,"  said  Buckrow. 
"I'm  man  enough  to  get  away  with  it,  Thirkle  or 
no  Thirkle." 

"That  sounds  very  big,  Mr.  Buckrow;  but  where 
will  ye  go?  Easy  enough  it  would  be  if  this  island 
was  off  the  track  of  ships,  but  the  minute  ye  make 
a  westing  ten  miles  with  a  boat-load  of  gold,  or 
empty-handed,  pop!  ye  go  into  the  hands  of  a 
coast-guard  cutter  or  a  ship.  Fine  time  ye'll  have 
telling  ye  found  it,  or  that  ye  got  out  of  the  ship  by 
yerself.  Back  to  Manila  ye'll  go,  and  slam  into 
Bilibid  prison,  and  all  about  ye  in  the  papers,  and 
all  about  the  gold;  and  then  ye'll  be  in  a  nice  fix. 

"Ye  think,  because  it  was  secret  cargo,  the  owners 


234          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

of  the  gold  won't  kick  up  a  row  when  the  Kut 
Sang  is  a  minute  overdue?  Ye  think  they'll  take 
yer  yarns  when  they  find  ye  went  in  the  Kut  Sang, 
as  the  whole  Sailors'  Home  knows?  They'll  stretch 
a  rope  for  ye  and  Petrak  —  if  ye  let  Petrak  along  — 
and  the  two  of  ye'll  drop  together  into  the  deepest 
hole  ever  ye  clapped  eyes  on." 

"Of  course,  Mr.  Thirkle  could  pack  a  ton  of  gold 
about,  and  it  would  be  different,  and  not  a  word 
said,"  sneered  Buckrow.  "Perhaps  ye  know  better 
than  me  what  to  do  —  hey,  Thirkle?" 

"Thirkle  has  his  plans  made  for  the  last  of  it  as 
well  as  he  had  for  the  first  of  it,  and  don't  ye  forget 
that,  Mr.  Buckrow,  and  never  mind  what  they  are. 
You  go  on  now  and  play  the  string  out,  and  I  wish 
the  two  of  ye  luck;  but  remember  that  Thirkle 
said  ye'd  hang,  and  hang  ye  will.  When  they  put  the 
rope  on  yer  necks  and  the  black  caps  over  yer 
heads,  just  remember  Thirkle  said  it  would  come 
out  that  way.  They'll  make  a  nice  job  of  ye." 

Petrak  shivered  and  looked  at  Buckrow,  who 
stood  with  arms  folded,  staring  at  the  ground. 

"Oh,  stow  that  gab,  Thirkle!"  he  said.  "Never 
ye  fret  about  me  and  Reddy;  ye'll  be  dead,  anyhow, 
and  ye  won't  mind." 

"Ye  can  thank  Bucky  for  it,"  went  on  Thirkle, 
craftily  turning  his  conversation  to  Petrak,  who 
was  more  easily  influenced  and  had  a  hearty  dread 
of  death  or  prisons. 


THE  ART  OF  THIRKLE          235 

"Thank  Bucky  when  ye  start  up  the  thirteen 
steps.  They'll  be  the  hardest  thirteen  steps  ye 
ever  took  in  yer  life,  Reddy  —  and  the  last.  A 
man's  in  a  bad  way  when  the  shadow  of  the  gallows 
falls  across  his  bows  and  the  priest  begins  to  pray. 
I  looked  for  a  better  end  for  ye  than  that,  Petrak; 
but  go  ahead  and  take  his  advice,  and  see  where  ye 
come  to." 

"Don't  mind  him,  Reddy,"  said  Buckrow  hoarsely. 
"Pass  the  bottle  and  let  the  old  devil  croak.  You 
stick  to  Bucky." 

"Now,  here's  where  I  stand,"  went  on  Thirkle. 
"It's  the  last  I'll  say  on  it,  and  I'll  give  you  two 
chaps  another  chance  to  save  yerselves.  Take  the 
ropes  off  me  and  I'll  bear  no  arms.  You  two  take 
the  pistols,  and  I  won't  have  a  knife.  That  gives 
you  two  the  upper  hand,  and  ye  can  do  as  ye  please, 
and  I'll  take  my  share  and  orders,  and  see  that  I 
get  ye  away  clear. 

"Once  we  make  it  safe  ye  can  go  about  yer 
business,  and  I'll  go  about  mine.  Come  on,  now, 
lads  —  how's  that?  I  ought  to  be  worth  that  just 
to  plan  it  out  for  ye  and  make  sure  ye  get  away. 
Better  a  third  and  a  long  life  than  the  whole  and 
a  rope  afore  ye  spend  a  hundred  pound  of  it,  if 
ye  get  as  much  as  a  drink  out  of  it  alone.  How 
now,  Bucky?" 

"Real  sweet  of  ye,  old  cock,"  said  Buckrow, 
lighting  a  cigar.  "A  third  and  yer  life  looks  better 


236          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

than  none  and  a  pile  of  bones.  Thirkle  has  a 
bit  of  a  way  to  look  to  his  own  ends;  what, 
Reddy?" 

"Ye  don't  stand  to  lose  anything,  do  ye?  I'm 
not  the  man  to  squeal  when  I'm  down;  but  we 
went  into  this  thing  together,  the  whole  of  us, 
with  our  eyes  open,  to  split  it  even.  Here's  the 
three  of  us,  and  we'll  count  it  out  right  here  by 
the  piece  or  the  sack.  Then  ye  leave  it  to  me  to 
get  it  away  for  ye,  clean  and  neat.  I'm  a  gentleman, 
I  am,  and  I  can  play  a  gentleman's  game,  which 
ye  two  can't. 

"I  can  buy  a  schooner  or  a  yacht  and  look  natural 
about  it,  and  no  questions  asked;  and  make  a  big 
show  and  live  at  the  best  hotels,  and  nothing 
thought  of  me  having  plenty  of  money.  But  you 
two  —  why,  show  a  guinea,  sober  or  drunk,  and 
they'll  grab  ye  on  suspicion  ye  stole  it.  Ye'd  look 
real  nice,  Mr.  Buckrow,  buying  a  ship  to  come 
back  here  for  it,  wouldn't  ye  —  or  mayhap  ye'd 
leave  that  part  of  it  to  Petrak." 

"How'll  ye  get  away  with  it  if  yer  so  sharp 
about  it?"  demanded  Buckrow.  "What  can  ye  do 
outside  what  we  can  do  —  hey,  Thirkle?" 

"I've  got  it  all  planned  out,  ye  can  bank  on 
that.  I  didn't  get  this  gold  here  without  knowing 
what  I  was  at,  or  how  I  was  going  to  draw  through. 
That  isn't  my  way,  as  ye  know.  I  have  in  mind 
a  sloop-rigged  yacht,  lying  in  Shanghai,  waiting 


THE  ART  OF  THIRKLE          237 

for  a  buyer.  Pretty  little  white  thing  she  is,  and 
I  can  get  her  for  a  song,  and  take  enough  of  this 
with  me  to  turn  the  job. 

"I  can  play  Meeker  again,  which  you  chaps  don't 
seem  to  know.  I  told  the  Times  man  on  the  water 
front  over  the  telephone,  five  minutes  before  we 
sailed,  to  make  a  personal  item  about  how  the 
Rev.  Luther  Meeker,  missionary,  would  sail  next 
week  for  Hong-Kong  in  the  Taming,  and  to  tell 
the  shipping-office  to  reserve  a  ticket  for  me. 
Nobody  knows  I  went  in  the  Kut  Sang  for  sure, 
and  I  could  drop  into  Manila  to-morrow  as  Meeker, 
and  not  a  man  the  wiser. 

"We'll  buy  this  little  yacht,  and  I'll  turn  her 
into  a  missionary  boat,  buying  her  with  funds  fur 
nished  by  the  London  Evangelical  Society,  as  I'll 
tell  'em.  I'll  call  her  the  Bethlehem  and  cruise 
along  the  China  coast,  putting  in  at  ports  to  hold 
services.  Then  we'll  sneak  away  some  day  and 
drop  down  here,  with  chinks  in  the  crew,  and  we'll 
get  this  gold  aboard  in  such  way  they  won't  suspect 
what  it  is. 

"Then  it's  an  easy  matter  to  make  away  to 
any  port  we  want  and  fill  away  for  London  in  a 
liner,  with  the  gold  strewn  along  in  the  banks 
here  and  there,  or  packed  with  books  or  other 
junk  and  freighted.  How's  that,  mates?" 

"And  when  it's  all  done  we  can  go  to  the  devil 
and  you'll  take  the  gold.  I  know  the  palaver, 


238          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

Thirkle.  If  ye  please,  I'll  take  my  chances  alone 
with  the  gold,"  said  Buckrow. 

"Then  hang!  I  wash  my  hands  of  the  two  of 
ye,  and  may  the  devil  mend  ye!' 

Thirkle  raised  his  bound  hands  as  he  said  this, 
and  there  was  tragedy  in  his  grim  old  face,  and 
pity  for  the  two  on  whom  he  had  apparently  pro 
nounced  the  death-sentence.  But  I  could  see  in 
his  shrewd  eyes  that  he  was  acting  a  part  —  he  was 
laughing  at  them  while  pleading  for  liberty. 

Petrak  began  to  whimper,  and  he  looked  at 
Buckrow  appealingly. 

"Let  him  loose,  Bucky,"  he  begged.  "Let 
Thirkle  loose,  or  we'll  hang,  as  he  says,  and  we'll 
split  it  share  and  share  alike." 

"Let  him  loose  so  he  can  do  for  us!"  raged 
Buckrow.  "Let  him  loose  so  he  can  make  off 
with  it,  and  then  knife  us  when  it  comes  handy!  I 
know  his  black  heart!" 

Yet,  Buckrow  was  in  a  quandary  and,  in  spite 
of  his  fear  of  Thirkle,  seemed  inclined  to  free  him, 
evidently  finding  it  hard  to  make  his  own  decisions, 
and  preferring  to  have  some  one  to  give  the  orders. 
He  tossed  his  cigar  away,  and  stood  watching 
Thirkle  chewing  a  blade  of  grass. 

"Ye  can  deal  with  me,  mates,  but  ye'll  find  ye 
can't  argue  with  the  judge,"  went  on  Thirkle  in 
a  quiet  tone,  keeping  his  eyes  on  the  ground. 
"Ye'll  find  ye  can't  talk  the  turnkey  into  liberty, 


THE  ART  OF  THIRKLE          239 

and  it  will  be  too  late  the  morning  the  hangman 
opens  the  door  and  says  'Come!'  and " 

"Stow  that  gab,  or  I'll  let  a  knife  into  yer  hide!" 
snarled  Buckrow,  and  he  went  over  to  the  pile  of 
sacks  and  began  kicking  the  brown  canvas  nervously. 

Thirkle  began  to  chuckle  quietly,  swaying  his 
shoulders  from  side  to  side  in  his  simulated  hilarity. 
Petrak,  who  was  standing  close  to  him,  looked  at 
him  in  surprise. 

"It  will  be  a  fine  joke,"  said  Thirkle  in  a  low 
tone,  as  if  speaking  to  himself.  "They  do  love  to 
hang  a  red-headed  man!  Poor  Petrak!  They'll 
have  a  great  joke  with  him  —  Oh,  ye  there,  Petrak, 
my  lad!  Well,  I'm  sorry  for  ye;  but  ye  can't  blame 
me  if  Bucky  gets  ye  in  a  jam.  He  says  he  can  go 
it  alone  now,  and  doesn't  need  Thirkle;  but  wait 
until  the  death-watch  is  pacing  outside  the  door 
like  a  Swedish  skipper,  and  ye've  only  got  an  hour 
left  on  earth,  and  then  ye'll  wish  ye'd  stuck  to 
Thirkle. 

"I'll  bet  all  this  gold  here  ye'll  wish  ye  had 
Thirkle  then,  but  Thirkle  won't  be  there  to  help. 
I  say  stick  to  Bucky  if  ye  like,  but  ye'll  find  he 
ain't  Thirkle.  Good-bye,  Reddy.  I  never  looked 
for  ye  to  come  to  this;  but  I  can  say  ye'll  hang  if 
you  go  it  with  Bucky." 

"I  didn't  do  it,  Thirkle;  I  didn't  put  ye  where 
ye  be,"  whimpered  Petrak.  "I'm  for  cuttin'  ye 
loose,  but  Bucky  ain't." 


240          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"He's  mad  at  me,  and  I  can't  argue  with  him, 
but  if  ye  say  a  word  or  two  he'll  mind  ye;  and 
remember,  Petrak,  if  ye  can't  make  him  see  it 
right,  ye'll  hang  —  the  two  of  ye  —  and  ye  know 
Thirkle  always  has  it  as  it  is." 

Thirkle  whispered  something  to  Petrak  which  I 
did  not  catch,  and  then  the  little  rascal  went  over 
to  Buckrow  and  began  to  talk  with  him  quietly, 
and  finally  began  to  plead  for  Thirkle. 

"Ye' re  afraid  of  him,"  sneered  Buckrow.  "Ye're 
afraid  of  Thirkle  with  reef-knots  on  his  hands,  and 
ye'll  be  afraid  of  him  when  he's  dead,  ye  coward!" 

"I  ain't  afraid  of  him,  Bucky,  but  he  says  we'll 
hang;  and  so  we  will  if  we  don't  let  him  have  a 
hand  gettin'  this  gold  clear  away." 

"He'll  do  for  us;  and  then  what  good  will  the 
gold  be  to  us?  Reddy,  ye  know  the  devil  as  I  do; 
jind  now  he's  got  this  pile  he'll  settle  us  when  he 
sees  his  way  to  it." 

"Let  him  go,  Bucky;  let  him  go.  The  night '11 
>e  on  us  in  an  hour  or  so,  and  then  what'll  we  do? 
Leave  it  to  Thirkle  and  it'll  come  out  all  right;  and 
I  know  it  and  you  know  it,  Bucky.  There's  the 
two  of  us  to  him,  and  we'll  make  him  play  it  fair 
now." 

"The  two  of  us  '11  play  it  fair  without  him,"  said 
Buckrow.  "Come  on  and  stow  this  gold,  and  have 
done  with  the  job." 

"That's  an  end  of  it,"  said  Thirkle.     "No  use  to 


THE  ART  OF  THIRKLE          241 

talk  of  it  more.  Do  for  me  now;  I  ain't  got  much 
longer  to  live,  anyhow.  But  I'll  tell  you  chaps 
what  I'll  do,  so  ye  won't  have  to  ask  no  favours 
at  the  end." 

"What  now,  Thirkle?"  asked  Buckrow. 

"They  tried  to  make  a  preacher  of  me  in  my 
young  days,  and  it  was  no  go;  and  they  put  me 
in  the  navy,  and  I  made  a  mess  of  that.  But  I'm 
good  as  a  navy  chaplain  at  saying  a  prayer;  and 
if  ye'll  bring  me  the  little  Bible  ye'll  find  in  my 
jacket-pocket  I'll  say  the  burial  service  of  the 
Church  of  England  over  ye  two,  fine  as  a  bishop 
would  and  good  enough  for  anybody,  with  all  the 
frills.  How's  that  for  Thirkle  ? " 

"Let  him  go,  Bucky,"  whined  Petrak,  with 
quivering  knees  and  terror  in  his  face. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

BIG    STAKES    IN   A    BIG    GAME 

I'D  LOOK  a  fine  fish  letting  of  him  go  now, 
after    what's    passed    between    us!"    laughed 
Buckrow.      "Ye    mind    what    he'd     do    the 
minute  he  got  his  paws  free.     Reddy,  if  ye  don't 
shut  yer  trap  I'll  drill  ye,  that's  what." 

"No  arms  for  me,"  suggested  Thirkle.  "I  bear 
no  arms;  and  both  of  ye  have  the  bilge  on  me  with 
all  the  knives  and  pistols  in  yer  own  hands." 

"That's  all  very  fine  for  ye  to  say  now,  Thirkle; 
but  what  of  when  ye  get  in  reach  of  a  gun  or  a  knife  ? 
What  then?" 

"I'll  bear  ye  no  grudge,"  said  Thirkle.  "Never 
a  word  will  I  say,  Bucky.  That's  done  and  gone, 
and  we  all  have  our  little  quarrels.  Never  a  hand 
will  I  turn  against  ye,  Bucky,  and  Petrak  here  to 
witness  what  I  say." 

"No  grudge  ag'in'  me  for  what  I  done?"  demanded 
Buckrow  doubtfully.  "Ye  mean  ye'll  let  this  go 
and  never  a  word  ag'in'  me,  Thirkle?" 

"Never  a  word.  We'll  slip  all  that  and  turn 
to  at  getting  this  gold  away.  What's  a  little 
mistake  against  all  this  here?  Going  to  let  a  bit 

242 


BIG  STAKES  IN  A  BIG  GAME     243 

of  a  row  stand  between  us  and  good  times?  I 
say  no.  Give  me  a  chance  to  get  ye  all  off  here 
with  the  gold  and  I  won't  likely  forget  it  if  ye  let 
me  go,  Bucky.  I'm  not  the  man  to  hold  a  small 
mistake  of  judgment  against  a  mate  like  you, 
what's  fought  and  worked  with  me  so  long,  and  ye 
was  always  ready,  Bucky,  when  there  was  a  hard 
job  ahead. 

"Nearly  two  years  we've  been  together,  mate, 
and  it  would  be  a  pity  if  we  smashed  things  now, 
when  we've  got  a  ship-load  of  gold.  It's  time  we 
quit  and  took  our  comfort,  and  no  more  chances 
of  getting  a  rope  at  the  end  of  it.  We've  about 
played  the  game  out,  and  we'd  better  not  play  a 
good  thing  too  far  or  we'll  find  ourselves  catching 
a  crab  one  of  these  fine  days.  I  said  we'd  stop 
if  we  made  it  safe  with  the  Kut  Sang,  and  we  have 
and  now  that  we've  got  plenty  ahead,  with  eating 
and  drinking  and  a  good  bed  the  rest  of  our  days, 
let's  square  away  for  home. 

"We'll  start  fair  and  square  again,  mates,  as  we 
did  when  we  first  put  our  heads  together  for  this 
fortune,  and  no  grudges  and  all  equal  now,  as  the 
worst  of  the  work  is  over  and  the  next  is  to  get  away 
with  it,  easy  enough  if  ye  let  me  pilot  the  job.  In 
a  month  we'll  be  in  London,  and  ye  and  Reddy,  with 
a  pub  all  yer  own,  and  living  at  ease  like  gentlemen." 

"All  equal  from  this  on,  Thirkle?  Each  has  his 
say,  and  one  as  good  as  the  other?" 


244          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"Nothing  without  a  council  and  two  votes  to 
decide,  so  ye  two  '11  be  yer  own  masters,  having 
the  two  votes  against  me,  with  my  advice  for  help. 
There's  fifty  thousand  pounds  for  each  of  us,  and 
we'll  separate  in  London  and  go  our  own  ways 
if  ye  like.  I'll  swear  a  black  oath  to  that,  and  my 
word's  good,  as  ye  both  know. 

"Did  I  ever  break  it  to  ye?  Didn't  I  always 
cut  the  loot  as  I  agreed?  I'm  Thirkle,  and  when 
I  say  a  thing  I  mean  it.  Now,  Bucky,  think 
it  over  before  it's  too  late.  Will  ye  go  it  alone,  or 
will  ye  give  me  a  fair  play  at  the  game,  and  come 
out  with  yer  life  and  a  fair  share  of  the  gold?  It's 
for  you  to  decide,  and  see  ye  don't  make  a  mistake." 

"No  arms  for  ye,  split  three  ways,  and  do  as 
we  please  when  we're  away  clear  with  the  gold?" 
asked  Buckrow. 

"That's  it,  Bucky.  That's  what  I  said  and 
what  I  say,  and  I'll  stick  to  it." 

"Swear  to  it,  and  nothing  in  yer  mind." 

"I  swear  to  it  and  nothing  in  my  mind.  It's 
a  square  enough  thing,  and  I  never  laid  to  do  for 
ye  as  ye  think.  It  was  all  a  mistake,  Bucky." 

Buckrow  began  to  whisper  with  Petrak  again, 
and  Thirkle  held  his  hands  up  and  called  to  them 
sharply:  "Here!  Cut  this  rope!" 

Petrak  started  for  Thirkle  with  a  sheath-knife, 
but  Buckrow  pulled  him  back. 

"I'll   let  him   go,"   he   said.     "This  is   my  job, 


BIG  STAKES  IN  A  BIG  GAME     245 

Thirkle,"  continued  Buckrow,  approaching  hi«  pris 
oner.  "I'm  atween  two  minds  with  ye,  and  one 
is  to  slit  yer  neck,  as  I  won't  deny;  but  ye're 
a  sharp  cuss,  and  I  guess  ye  can  do  this  work  better 
than  I  can.  But  I  want  to  say  to  ye  now,  if  ever 
ye  turn  on  me  after  this  ye're  a  dog. 

"I'll  take  my  chance  with  ye,  but  ye  bear  me 
no  love,  and  I  know  it;  and  ever  ye  reach  for  a 
knife  or  a  gun,  mind  that  I  don't  see  ye.  It's 
play  fair  from  now  on,  but  show  a  claw  and  yer 
done  for  if  I  can  do  it." 

He  stooped  down  and  slipped  the  blade  of  his 
Jknife  through  the  bonds  he  had  put  upon  Thirkle, 
and  then  stepped  away  from  him,  with  the  knife 
held  in  guard,  as  if  he  expected  the  pirate  to  leap 
at  him  once  he  had  his  hands  free. 

But  Thirkle  sat  still  for  a  few  minutes,  rubbing 
his  wrists,  and  then  called  for  the  bottle.  Petrak 
handed  it  to  him,  and  he  sipped  the  brandy  and 
bathed  his  wounded  head  with  it,  sending  Reddy 
to  a  pool  of  water  at  the  base  of  the  cliff  to  wet  his 
handkerchief,  and  then  bound  it  around  his  head. 

"It  looks  bad,  but  it  didn't  hurt  much,  Bucky," 
he  said,  smiling.  "What  hurt  me  more  was  to 
have  ye  turn  on  me  the  way  ye  did;  but  that's 
all  passed  and  gone,  and  we  won't  mention  it  again." 

"Mind  ye,  don't,"  growled  Buckrow,  who  was 
still  in  an  angry  mood  and  perhaps  thought  he  had 
made  a  mistake  in  giving  Thirkle  freedom  again. 


246          THE  DEVIL*  s  ADMIRAL 

"Oh,  limber  up  a  bit,  Bucky,"  said  Thirkle. 
"What's  the  use  of  us  all  going  to  Kingdom  Come 
over  a  little  fight,  when  we've  had  so  much  fighting 
to  get  this?  The  gold  turned  all  our  heads,  no 
doubt,  but  we  can't  be  fools  through  it.  The  stuff's 
no  good  here  —  the  job's  not  done  yet,  but  I'll  get 
ye  all  clear  now  if  ye  mind  me  and  keep  sober 
in  port.  Shake,  old  mate,  and  let's  be  friends 
again." 

He  held  out  his  hand  to  Buckrow,  who  took  it, 
but  awkwardly.  I  could  see  that  he  feared  Thirkle, 
even  unarmed,  and  knew  him  for  his  master. 

"I'm  cussed  sorry,  Thirkle,  for  what  I  done;  but 
I  felt  ye  wanted  to  do  for  me,  and  I  couldn't  stand 
for  that,"  he  said,  with  his  eyes  on  the  ground. 

"All  square  now,  Bucky,  and  never  a  word. 
Ye  always  did  yer  work  well,  and  never  a  slip." 

"And  didn't  I  do  the  same,  Thirkle?  Didn't  I 
stand  by?"  asked  Petrak,  surveying  his  chief  with 
an  expression  of  surprise  that  he  had  been  over 
looked  in  commendation,  much  as  a  dog  would 
seek  petting. 

"You,  too,"  assented  Thirkle,  beaming  on  the 
little  red-headed  man.  "Never  was  a  better  man 
when  there  was  to  be  a  knife  used  quick  and  neat; 
I'll  say  that  for  ye.  Now,  I  want  to  take  a  little 
rest  for  a  few  minutes,  and  if  I  was  to  have  a  word 
to  say  I'd  suggest  that  you  two  get  the  sacks  stowed 
in  the  hole  there.  I  want  a  little  confab  with 


BIG  STAKES  IN  A  BIG  GAME     247 

Mr.  Trenholm  here,  and  I'll  give  a  hand  presently. 
If  ye  think  it's  fair,  I'll  rest  a  bit;  but  we  ought 
to  get  that  stuff  snug  away,  and  there's  no  time 
to  be  lost." 

Buckrow  took  away  the  belt  and  pistols,  which 
had  been  unfastened  from  me  after  my  capture, 
and  he  and  Petrak  set  to  work  carrying  the  sacks 
of  gold  into  the  cleft  in  the  cliff. 

"It  looked  bad  for  me  a  while  back,  Mr.  Tren 
holm,"  said  Thirkle,  sitting  beside  me  and  offering 
a  cigar,  which  I  took.  "I  wasn't  quite  sure  that  I 
could  get  myself  out  of  that  tangle." 

"You  had  a  pretty  good  argument,"  I  commented, 
lighting  the  cigar,  although  my  head  throbbed  so 
painfully  that  I  knew  I  would  not  enjoy  the  smoke. 
"I'm  afraid  I  won't  be  able  to  have  any  plan  to 
help  you  get  away  with  the  gold  and  so  earn  my 
own  life." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Trenholm,  I'm  sorry  you  didn't 
go  down  in  the  Kut  Sang.  Really  I  am,  for  you 
know  I  took  quite  a  fancy  to  you  in  Manila.  You 
are  of  such  an  unsuspicious  nature." 

"Oh,  I  had  my  suspicions  well  enough,  but  they 
were  on  the  wrong  track;  in  fact,  I  could  not  have 
done  you  justice  —  my  imagination  is  not  equal  to 
it.  The  best  I  could  do  for  you  was  to  mistake 
you  for  a  spy  —  an  inadequate  estimate,  after  what 
I  have  seen  and  heard  of  you." 

"You  flatter  me,  my  dear  Mr.  Trenholm.     But 


248          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

it  is  entirely  your  own  fault  that  you  are  where  you 
are.  I  tried  to  warn  you,  but  you  couldn't  expect 
me  to  tell  you  my  plans  regarding  the  Kut  Sang. 
I  didn't  want  you  in  her,  and  I  did  my  best  to  keep 
you  out.  Really  remarkable,  in  a  way." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"That  you  should  happen  to  be  a  passenger  — 
such  an  insistent  passenger — and  as  if  you  knew 
nothing  about  what  was  going  in  the  ship.  Really, 
you  and  Trego  did  well." 

"I  think  Trego  made  rather  a  mess  of  it,"  I 
said.  "If  I  had  been  in  his  boots  I  would  have 
told  the  captain  what  it  was  all  about.' 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  him?  You  could  have  told 
him  about  the  gold  as  well  as  Mr.  Trego." 

"Indeed!  Then,  you  believe  I  knew  about  the 
Kut  Sang's  cargo." 

"I  don't  believe  it,  my  dear  Mr.  Trenholm.  I 
never  accept  a  theory  as  a  fact.  There  was  a  time 
when  I  thought  your  connection  with  the  affair 
ended  when  you  brought  the  orders  from  Saigon, 
but  your  persistence  in  pretending  to  buy  a  ticket 
in  the  Kut  Sang  rather  puzzled  me  for  a  time,  and 
then  I  was  afraid  that  you  suspected  me,  and  that 
I  had  gone  too  far  in  trying  to  keep  you  out  of  the 
vessel." 

"You  are  talking  enigmas  now." 

"But  what  surprised  me  most,"  he  resumed,  dis 
regarding  my  remark,  "was  that  I  purchased  a 


BIG  STAKES  IN  A  BIG  GAME     249 

ticket  in  the  Kut  Sang  at  all.  I  looked  for  a  trap 
there,  and  if  the  game  hadn't  been  so  big  I  might 
have  quit  at  the  last  minute." 

"I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  you  are  talking 
about." 

"My  dear  Mr.  Trenholm!  Really,  your  attitude 
offends  me.  I  cannot  see  what  you  expect  to 
gain  by  pretending  you  knew  nothing  about  the 
gold  in  the  Kut  Sang.  That  is  absurd.  You 
brought  the  order  for  it  from  Saigon,  and  helped 
get  the  thing  fixed,  and  yet  you  pretend  that  it  is 
all  a  mystery  to  you.  When  I  am  willing  to  be  so 
frank  I  cannot  see  why  you  should  assume  this 
manner." 

"Then,  I  knew  all  about  the  gold  from  the  first, 
did  I?" 

"Certainly.  What  do  you  think  Mr.  Petrak  and 
I  kept  so  close  at  your  heels  for  in  Manila?" 

"Well,  it  did  rather  puzzle  me  for  a  while.  Every 
where  I  turned  you  or  the  little  red-headed  rascal 
seemed  to  be  near." 

"And  never  seemed  to  remember  having  seen  us 
in  Saigon?" 

"In  Saigon?  Were  you  in  Saigon  when  I  was 
there?" 

"Left  before  you  did,  when  we  knew  you  had  the 
order  for  the  gold  from  Commander  Kousmitch." 

"Never  met  the  gentleman." 

"Of  course  not.     He  got  the  cable-operator  to 


250          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

have  you  deliver  the  order  in  Manila  for  him.  But 
I  heard  him  and  the  cable-operator  talk  it  over, 
and  that  was  all  I  wanted,  and  left.  So  you  didn't 
see  us  in  Saigon?  I  told  Petrak  you  didn't,  but 
he  thought  you  did.  That's  one  reason  we  got 
so  bold  in  Manila." 

"But  the  cable-operator  told  me  the  message 
didn't  amount  to  much,  and  that  he  would  send 
duplicates  by  mail,  anyway." 

"Of  course  he  did.  It  didn't  amount  to  much, 
except  to  give  a  code  order  about  shipping  this 
gold.  And  you  dropped  it  in  the  bus,  and  I  picked 
it  up,  and  you  were  rather  rude  to  me,  which  proved 
that  you  either  had  no  suspicions  about  me,  or  knew 
it  all  and  wanted  to  throw  me  off  my  guard.  I  be 
lieve  you  were  actually  laughing  at  me  the  last  few 
hours  in  Manila.  I  couldn't  understand,  unless  you 
had  things  rigged  to  trip  me  the  minute  we  sailed. 

"I  was  looking  for  it  at  dinner  the  minute  we 
cast  off;  and  what  a  scrimmage  there  would  have 
been  at  that  table  if  you  had  drawn  one  of  those 
pistols!  Why,  Petrak  and  Buckrow  and  Long  Jim 
were  in  the  passage  with  pistols  ready  to  come  in, 
and  I  would  have  shot  you  first,  and  then  Trego, 
for  I  knew  Captain  Riggs  had  no  arms  on  his  person. 
If  I  made  away  with  you  and  Trego  the  next 
would  have  been  Rajah,  for  the  lad  could  have  given 
a  nasty  cut  with  that  kris.  And  I  had  to  keep  a 
close  eye  on  Mr.  Trego's  malacca  cane." 


BIG  STAKES  IN  A  BIG  GAME     251 

"Oh,  you  did!  I  never  suspected  for  a  minute 
that  you  regarded  Mr.  Trego  as  a  dangerous  charac 
ter." 

"He  never  told  you?" 

"Never  told  me  anything.  I  was  introduced  to 
him  in  a  most  casual  way  in  the  bank,  and  was 
surprised  to  find  him  a  passenger  in  the  Kut  Sang." 

"He  never  told  you  about  his  cane?  Most 
beautiful  rapier  you  ever  saw  in  it.  Always  had 
it  by  him,  but  he  overlooked  it  when  he  got  up 
from  the  table  in  the  saloon  last  evening.  Un 
doubtedly  he  was  going  for  a  pistol,  but  we  had  to 
get  him  when  the  time  offered;  and,  besides,  he 
was  getting  ready  to  tell  Riggs  all  about  me  and 
my  crew.  There  wasn't  a  second  to  lose.  I  met 
him  as  he  was  coming  back  and  held  him  for  Petrak, 
and  we  did  the  job  quietly." 

"It  was  something  to  be  proud  of,"  I  remarked. 
"I  never  would  have  given  the  Rev.  Luther  Meeker 
credit  for  it." 

"That's  what  made  the  character  so  valuable," 
he  grinned,  feeling  the  bandage  about  his  head 
tenderly.  I  saw  that  he  was  weaker  than  he  had 
led  us  to  believe,  and  that  he  was  suffering  from 
his  wound. 

"But  you  puzzled  me  when  they  found  the  body. 
I  expected  you  to  denounce  me;  but  you  foolishly 
kept  in  front  of  me,  and  I  was  ready  to  blow  your 
back  out  if  you  said  a  word,  and  we  were  all  ready 


252          THE  DEVIL'S  ADIMIRAL 

for  the  finest  kind  of  a  fight,  although  I  did  not 
want  to  precipitate  matters  so  soon.  Really,  you 
had  me  guessing  for  a  time,  and  I  couldn't  under 
stand  your  attitude,  knowing  what  you  did  about 
me  and  the  gold.  Then  I  saw  that  you  had  plans 
of  your  own,  and  wanted  it  yourself." 

"It  is  you  who  flatter  me  now,"  I  told  him, 
surprised  at  his  revelations. 

"But  you  did  want  it,  although  I  couldn't  see 
how  you  figured  to  take  it  away  from  me,  or 
why  you  didn't  tell  Captain  Riggs  what  you 
knew." 

"But  I  didn't  know  anything.  I  thought  you 
were  a  spy,  who  mistook  me  for  one,  and  I  was 
letting  you  have  your  little  joke  out." 

"You  didn't  know  about  the  gold,  or  Trego,  or 
me?"  he  demanded. 

"I  regret  exceedingly  that  I  didn't.  If  I  had 
I  would  have  blocked  your  game  at  the  first  oppor 
tunity.  I  suspected  you  were  not  a  missionary, 
but  I  had  never  even  heard  of  the  Devil's  Admiral." 

"Most  extraordinary." 

"I  agree  with  you." 

"I  mean  that  you  didn't  know  about  the  gold, 
when  I  thought  you  did.  I  must  confess  that  I 
made  a  tremendous  mistake  there.  Really,  it  came 
near  being  a  failure  —  it  would  have  been  if  Captain 
Riggs  had  not  been  led  to  suspect  you.  I  advised 
him  to  put  you  in  irons  after  you  were  sent  to  your 


BIG  STAKES  IN  A  BIG  GAME     253 

room  —  it  seemed  to  be  the  easiest  way  to  get 
you  out  of  the  fight.  I  was  really  afraid  of  you, 
Mr.  Trenholm." 

"You  seem  to  have  gotten  over  it.  This  seems 
to  be  getting  more  of  a  tangle  all  the  time,  and  a 
sort  of  mutual-admiration  society.  I  have  no  objec 
tion  to  keeping  up  the  conversation,  but  you  pique 
my  curiosity  as  to  how  it  is  all  going  to  come  out.  As 
I  have  already  remarked,  I  can't  see  any  argument 
that  would  lead  you  to  let  me  walk  away  from  here 
unless  I  tell  you,  as  you  told  Petrak  and  Buckrow, 
that  you'll  hang." 

"Now,  tut,  tut!  You  can't  play  my  game.  I 
thought  you  had  more  originality  than  that.  You 
know  too  much  now,  and  it  would  be  premature 
to  tell  the  story  of  the  Kut  Sang  for  several  years. 
I'm  afraid  that  I'll  have  to  write  my  own  memoirs, 
but  for  posthumous  publication,  of  course." 

"I'm  sure  I  would  like  to  read  them.  You  have 
turned  murder  into  a  fine  art  —  you  should  have 
been  a  contemporary  of  the  Borgias." 

"Do  you  know,  Mr.  Trenholm,  I  have  thought 
of  something  like  that  myself.  I  am  quite  proud 
of  my  success.  I  would  like  if  my  career  could 
be  written  down  by  a  good  hand  at  such  things; 
but  of  course  that  is  impossible,  for  no  man  ever 
knew  the  Devil's  Admiral  and  lived.  I  regret  to 
say  that  you  will  be  no  exception  in  that  respect, 
Mr.  Trenholm.  I'm  sorry  you  didn't  go  down  in 


254          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

the  Kut  Sang  and  save  me  what  is  bound  to  be  a 
disagreeable  job." 

"In  that  case  I  would  have  missed  the  little 
drama  between  you  and  Mr.  Buckrow.  I  rather 
enjoyed  it.  You  seem  to  be  an  artist  at  other 
things  besides  slaying  men." 

"I  am  glad  you  liked  it,  but  Bucky  is  rather 
hard  to  handle  at  times.  There  will  be  another 
act  or  two,  and  I'll  give  you  a  chance  to  see  the 
climax." 

"That's  kind  of  you,  although  you  upset  dra 
matic  conventions  and  I  will  find  it  rather  hard,  I  am 
afraid,  to  be  a  competent  critic.  Besides,  I  might 
be  prejudiced,  having  a  personal  interest  in  the 
outcome." 

"That  won't  matter  much,"  he  smiled.  "My 
critics  are  always  short-lived.  Bucky  there  came 
nearest  to  getting  me,  though.  If  it  hadn't  been 
for  Petrak  I  never  could  have  handled  him.  They 
can't  bear  the  thought  of  a  rope.  Whenever  there 
was  a  hanging  I  took  them  to  see  it.  Being  a  man 
of  the  cloth,  I  was  admitted  to  all  sorts  of  places, 
and,  while  I  didn't  travel  openly  with  my  men,  I 
could  mingle  with  them  more  or  less  in  the  character 
of  a  missionary." 

He  looked  up  at  Buckrow,  who  stood  over  us 
scowling  suspiciously,  and  his  hand  was  close  to 
his  pistol. 

"What's  wrong,  Bucky?"  purred  Thirkle,  moisten- 


BIG  STAKES  IN  A  BIG  GAME     255 

ing  a  cigar  between  his  lips  and  giving  Buckrow 
a  searching  glance. 

"I  don't  like  that  place  in  there  for  the  gold, 
Thirkle.  It's  too  wet  to  suit  me." 

"The  dampness  won't  do  any  damage,  Bucky. 
That's  the  best  place  on  the  island,  to  my  thinking; 
but,  of  course,  if  you  don't  like  it  we'll  consider  it.;/ 

"The  gold  will  rust  in  there,"  said  Buckrow; 
and  I  knew  he  was  in  a  dangerous  mood  again. 

"Gold  don't  rust,  Bucky,"  called  Petrak,  standing 
in  the  crevice  and  grinning  at  Thirkle. 

"That's  the  best  place  on  the  island,"  said 
Thirkle  soothingly.  "This  is  the  ideal  place.  But 
if  you  don't  like  it  in  there,  we  won't  put  it  in  there, 
and  that's  an  end  of  it,  Bucky." 

"But  it'll  all  rust  up  into  great  gobs  if  it's  left 
any  great  while  —  I  don't  like  so  much  water 
drippin'  over  the  place,  Thirkle." 

"Gold  don't  rust,  Bucky,"  called  Petrak,  and 
he  laughed  immoderately  and  slapped  his  knees 
with  his  hands. 

"But  what  better  place  is  there,  Bucky?  It's 
getting  late  now,  lads,  and  that's  the  best  place 
for  it." 

"Then  I  vote  to  stow  it  and  pipe  down  with  the 
gabbin'  with  the  writin'  chap,"  said  Buckrow  sav 
agely.  "It's  time  we  got  clear  of  here  and  took 
to  the  boats  by  dark,  Thirkle.  I'm  not  for  cruising 
over  this  blasted  island  in  the  dark,  and  I  don't 


256          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

fancy  ye  and  the  writin'  chap  gettin'  so  thick  all 
of  a  sudden.  If  there's  to  be  talk,  we  want  to 
know  what  it's  about,  and  I  don't  see  no  great  gain 
in  so  much  gossipin'." 

"That's  entirely  my  idea,  Bucky.  My  vote  is 
that  we  put  it  in  the  crack  there  and  slick  up  around 
here  so  nobody  can  know  what's  been  afoot.  But 
I  want  a  rest,  and  there  are  some  things  I  want  to 
say  to  Mr.  Trenholm  here  that  will  be  of  use  to 
us.  Clap  on,  lads,  and  I'll  be  there  soon." 

"That's  my  vote,"  assented  Petrak,  grinning  at 
Thirkle.  "No  argument  there,  Bucky." 

"Then,  lay  on  again,  ye  fool,"  growled  Buckrow, 
turning  to  the  sacks  once  more.  "Cuss  ye,  Reddy. 
yer  goin'to  side  with  Thirkle  ag'in'  me,  I  can  see  that." 

They  picked  up  a  sack  and  staggered  into  the 
canon  with  it,  and  Thirkle  grinned  at  me,  and  lit 
his  cigar  again. 

"See  that,  Mr.  Trenholm?  If  I  had  let  Bucky 
rule  then  I  would  have  been  as  good  as  dead. 
I  had  another  chap  in  my  crew  like  that.  After 
he  saw  the  way  I  worked  the  game  he  wanted  to 
kill  me  and  take  command  himself.  While  he  was 
making  his  plans  to  settle  me  the  police  got  him  for 
a  murder  he  didn't  do,  and  I  trumped  up  the  evi 
dence  against  him,  but  never  appeared  at  the  trial. 

"When  he  was  condemned  I  told  him  I'd  get 
him  out  all  right.  I  had  turned  the  trick  before, 
with  saws  in  the  binding  of  Bibles,  for  some  of  my 


BIG  STAKES  IN  A  BIG  GAME     257 

men  in  prison,  and  he  had  absolute  faith  in  me, 
as  all  my  men  have.  I  went  away  on  a  little 
expedition  after  pearls  down  Mindanao  way,  and 
got  back  the  day  he  was  to  hang.  I  visited  him 
an  hour  before  he  was  to  swing,  and  told  him  it 
was  all  right  and  he  was  to  escape  at  the  last 
minute. 

"I  walked  up  to  the  trap  with  him,  and,  while 
praying  with  the  prison  chaplain,  kept  whispering 
it  was  all  right,  and  he  kept  quiet  until  they  had  the 
cap  over  his  head,  and  then  he  knew  I  had  him. 
He  tried  to  yell  that  I  was  the  Devil's  Admiral  — • 
but  it  was  too  late  then.  I  felt  that  I  was  justified  — • 
he  would  have  killed  me  the  next  day.  But  it 
was  a  fine  joke,  to  my  mind,  Mr.  Trenholm." 

"Ain't  ye  goin'  to  quit  gammin'  with  that  chap 
and  give  us  a  hand  here?"  demanded  Buckrow. 
"Is  that  what  ye  call  all  bein'  equal,  Mr.  Thirkle? 
If  ye  do,  I  don't." 

He  came  toward  us  in  a  threatening  manner, 
and  Thirkle,  seeing  that  he  must  submit  with  good 
grace,  got  up  and  met  him  with  a  smile. 

"By  all  means,  Bucky,  we  are  equal,  but  I  didn't 
think  ye'd  begrudge  me  a  little  time  after  what 
happened.  How  does  the  gold  fit  in  there?" 

"Wet  as  a  junk.  We  put  the  first  sack  in  the  eyes 
of  her,  but  it's  no  kid's  play,  and  we  ought  to 
have  help,  Mr.  Thirkle,  if  we  get  clear  away  from 
this  island  to-night.  We  can't  swear  there  won't 


258          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

be  no  moon,  and,  moon  or  no,  we  want  to  be  out 
of  the  jungle  and  at  the  boats  by  sundown.  And 
what's  the  game  with  the  writin'  chap  here?  I'm 
minded  to  have  him  do  a  bit  of  this  work." 

"Gold  don't  rust,  do  it,  Thirkle?"  asked  Petrak. 
"I  told  Bucky  gold  don't  rust  but  he  don't  like  the 
water  in  there." 

"Oh,  dry  up!"  growled  Buckrow.  What  with 
yer  talk  we'll  be  at  this  job  all  night " 

"I  vote "  began  Petrak. 

"To  the  devil  with  ye  and  yer  votin'!"  said  Buck- 
row.  "It's  time  we  got  to  work,  all  hands,  and 
so  we  will,  and  the  writin'  chap'll  turn  to  and  do  his 
bit,  or  I'll  know  why.  If  he  ain't  to  do  his  part, 
or  we  don't  make  no  use  of  him,  I  say  we'll  up 
and  do  for  him  now  and  have  it  done  with.  Next 
ye  know  he'll  make  his  getaway,  and  then  a  nice 
mess  we'll  be  in." 

"We  don't  intend  to  let  Mr.  Trenholm  get  away," 
said  Thirkle.  "I  was  just  thinking,  lads,  that  there 
are  three  of  us,  but  counting  Mr.  Trenholm  we 
make  four,  and  we  can  rattle  him  down  so  he  can 
lift  and  carry,  but  not  much  else." 

"Then,  lash  his  flippers  down  and  put  a  bight 
on  his  legs,"  said  Buckrow;  and  he  brought  rope 
and  began  to  fashion  it  into  knots. 

There  was  a  minute  when  I  was  tempted  to 
jump  and  run  for  it;  but  it  would  have  meant  certain 
death,  for  the  three  of  them  stood  over  me,  two 


BIG  STAKES  IN  A  BIG  GAME     259 

of  them  loaded  down  with  pistols,  and  I  would 
have  had  a  poor  chance  of  getting  away. 

There  was  a  promise  of  delay  in  the  work  to  be 
done;  and,  not  knowing  what  had  become  of  Captain 
Riggs,  there  was  the  bare  possibility  that  he  might 
come  upon  the  pirates'  camp  and  attack  them  from 
ambush  when  he  saw  that  I  was  a  captive. 

If  I  made  the  slightest  resistance  to  the  hampering 
ropes  they  put  on  me,  with  the  cunning  knots 
known  to  seamen,  I  knew  they  would  not  hesitate 
to  make  an  end  of  me.  So  I  stood  up  and  allowed 
Buckrow  to  lash  my  wrists  to  my  knees  in  such  a 
way  that  I  was  bent  nearly  double,  but  with  my 
hands  sufficiently  free  to  grasp  a  burden,  and  my 
feet  hobbled  for  short  steps. 

We  began  the  work  of  putting  the  sacks  of  gold 
into  the  hole  in  the  cliff,  and  I  set  at  the  task  with 
a  prayer  that  before  it  was  finished  and  my  life 
was  of  no  further  value  to  the  pirates  I  might  find 
an  opportunity  to  escape. 


CHAPTER  XIX 


YE  can  let  him  work  with  ye,  Thirkle,"  said 
Buckrow.  "As  ye  and  the  writin'  chap 
seem  to  have  a  lot  of  chin,  pair  off  with  him; 
and,  as  the  two  of  ye  don't  bear  arms,  he  can't  get 
his  paws  on  a  gun  or  knife  that  way.  You  two  work 
ahead  of  me  and  Petrak,  and  then  we  can  keep  an 
eye  on  the  both  of  ye. 

"It  strikes  me  you  and  the  writin'  chap  is 
gettin'  thick  —  too  blasted  thick  to  suit  me, 
Thirkle,  if  ye  want  to  know.  Mind  ye  don't 
come  none  of  yer  smart  tricks  now,  or  I  won't 
wait  for  ye  to  go  explainin'  of  what  ye  mean. 
Savvy  that?" 

"Tut,  tut,  man!"  said  Thirkle.  "How  can  you 
have  any  doubts  about  what  will  happen  to  Mr. 
Trenholm?  I  suppose  you  think  I  want  to  take  him 
along  with  us  so  he  can  write  this  all  up  for  the  news 
papers?  I'm  surprised  at  you,  Bucky.  Don't  you 
know  my  ways  yet?" 

"That's  all  right,"  growled  Buckrow,  who  was  in 
an  ill  humour.  "We  was  to  work  even,  and  ye 
ain't  been  doin'  yer  part,  Thirkle.  A  bargain's  a 

260 


"ONE  MAN  LESS"  261 

bargain  I'd  have  ye  know,  and  I'm  to  see  ye  keep  to 
yer  part  of  it." 

"Pipe  down  —  pipe  down,  Bucky,"  said  Petrak, 
who  seemed  in  glee  after  the  brandy  he  had  had. 
"It's  the  drink  talkin',  Bucky.  We're  all  good 
chaps,  and  Thirkle's  A  No.  I,  and  we  got  the  gold 
to  stow." 

"Don't  come  no  bos'n  manners  to  me,"  retorted 
Buckrow  savagely.  "I  ain't  goin'  to  stand  for  none 
such  from  ye,  Red.  Yer  sidin'  with  Thirkle,  and  I 
know  that,  and  I'm  as  good  a  man  as  Thirkle;  and 
I'm  boss  here,  even  or  no  even.  I'm  boss!  Under 
stand  that?  Thirkle  and  ye  can  have  yer  votes  if 
ye  want;  but  I'm  boss,  and  I'll  drill  the  two  of  ye." 

"Ye  ain't  goin'  to  fight,  be  ye  Bucky?" 

"I'll  put  all  hands  under  ground  —  that's  what, 
if  ye  don't  turn  to;  and  there's  too  much  gammin'  and 
gabbin'  here  to  suit  me,  I'd  have  ye  know." 

Petrak  looked  at  Thirkle  as  if  in  doubt  about 
Buckrow's  sanity,  and  Thirkle  gave  him  a  look  that 
seemed  to  me  to  be  a  message,  and  he  made  a  furtive 
signal  which  I  was  not  able  to  interpret. 

"Steady  as  she  goes,  mates;  steady  as  she  goes," 
purred  Thirkle.  "This  is  no  time  to  quarrel. 
We'll  have  a  gunboat  down  on  us  if  we  don't  get 
away  soon,  and  there's  a  lot  to  do  yet  before  we  leave. 
Let  Bucky  alone,  Red." 

"Then  ye  and  the  writin'  chap  lay  on  and  move 
lively,"  snarled  Buckrow,  and  Thirkle  had  me  take 


262          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

hold  of  a  sack  behind  him,  and,  with  him  leading 
the  way,  we  carried  it  into  the  miniature  canon. 

The  sacks  were  heavy,  but  were  bound  with  ropes 
which  served  as  handles,  and  were  not  hard  to  move 
until  we  got  into  the  narrow  cleft,  where  I  found  that 
my  shoulders  bumped  along  the  walls  as  I  swayed 
from  side  to  side,  or  missed  my  footing  on  the  damp, 
slippery  ground. 

Buckrow  and  Petrak  followed  us  in  with  another 
sack,  and  when  Thirkle  had  gone  as  far  as  he  could  he 
pulled  our  sack  forward  under  his  feet  and  stowed  it 
in  the  angle  where  the  walls  joined.  Then  I  had  to 
pass  the  second  sack  on  to  him,  taking  it  from  Pe 
trak,  who  was  next  to  me,  and  then  we  turned  in  our 
tracks  and  went  out  again. 

The  brush  on  the  top  of  the  cliff  overlapped  the 
crevice,  so  that  it  was  quite  dark  a  few  feet  from  the 
entrance.  The  walls  were  slippery  with  a  thick, 
funguslike  moss,  from  which  cool  water  dripped. 

"That  gold  will  rust  in  here  sure  as  a  nigger's 
black,"  grumbled  Buckrow,  as  he  felt  his  way  out. 
"I  don't  like  this  place  at  all." 

"Best  place  on  the  island,"  whispered  Thirkle. 
"Tell  him  it's  the  best  place  on  the  island,  Reddy." 

"It's  the  best  place  on  the  island,  Bucky.  I  don't 
see  as  we  could  do  better." 

"  I  don't  care  what  ye  think  of  it;  I  say  it'll  rust 
in  there,"  said  Buckrow. 

"You    had    better   go   in   backward   this   time," 


"ONE  MAN  LESS"  263 

said  Thirkle.  "You  may  find  it  a  little  harder, 
Mr.  Trenholm;  but  perhaps  it  will  be  more  con 
venient." 

"What's  that?"  demanded  Buckrow.  "Who  go  in 
first?" 

"It  will  be  easier  if  Mr.  Trenholm  goes  in  first," 
said  Thirkle.  "He'll  have  to  go  backward,  but  he'll 
find  it  easier  to  navigate." 

"Oh,  no,  he  won't!"  said  Buckrow.  "I  see  your 
game,  Thirkle.  Ye  want  to  come  out  behind  Mr. 
Petrak  and  borrow  a  gun.  We'll  let  you  go  in  first, 
and  the  writin'  chap  can  come  out  atween  ye  and 
Petrak.  Don't  come  none  of  them  games  on  me, 
Thirkle.  I'm  too  old  a  fish." 

We  went  in  with  the  second  lot  of  sacks  in  the 
same  order,  but  I  saw  another  exchange  of  signals 
between  Thirkle  and  Petrak  before  we  stooped  for 
our  burdens. 

Before  we  had  gone  ten  feet  inside  the  crevice 
Thirkle  coughed,  and  Petrak,  close  behind  him  said: 
"Gold  don't  rust." 

"I  say  it  do,"  declared  Buckrow.  "Six  months' 
time  in  here'll  have  this  stuff  with  whiskers  on  it  like 
a  Singapore  tramp  that  hasn't  been  docked  in  a 
dog's  age." 

"I  say  gold  don't  rust,"  persisted  Petrak.  "How 
about  it,  Thirkle?  Does  gold  rust?  I  say  it  don't, 
and  Bucky  says  it  do." 

"You're  right,  Reddy,  but  don't  quarrel  now," 


264          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

said  Thirkle.  "It  won't  rust  because  gold  doesn't 
rust." 

"I  don't  give  a  tinker's  hang  what  Thirkle  says!" 
cried  Buckrow,  throwing  down  his  end  of  the  sack. 
"I'm  here  to  say  gold  will  rust  if  it's  kept  wet,  and 
that's  an  end  of  it.  Gold  do  rust,  Thirkle  or  no 
Thirkle,  and  I  say  it." 

"All  right,"  agreed  Reddy.  "Lay  on,  Bucky, 
and  let's  get  this  job  over  and  done  with!" 

"White-livered  little  fool!"  I  heard  Thirkle  mut 
ter.  "He  doesn't  dare  do  it!" 

I  heard  Petrak  and  Buckrow  coming  on,  and  we 
were  soon  at  the  end  of  the  black  hole. 

"This  is  a  fine  place,  lads,"  said  Thirkle.  "It  will 
keep  in  here  as  well  as  if  buried  in  white,  dry  sand." 

"Maybe  it  will  and  maybe  it  won't,"  growled 
Buckrow.  "I  don't  call  no  wet  hole  like  this  fine, 
and  never  did,  and  I'm  minded  to  bury  the  rest  of 
it  outside." 

"Never  a  bit  of  hurt  in  the  water,  Bucky,"  said 
Petrak  cheerily.  "We'll  put  many  of  these  shiners 
over  the  bar  of  the  Flag  and  Anchor,  Bucky,  and  have 
many  a  pipe  over  our  drink." 

"Ye  don't  catch  me  in  no  Flag  and  Anchor.  I'll 
have  my  drop  of  liquor  in  the  Flagship  and  you  can 
go  to  the  devil  for  yours,  for  all  I  mind.  What  if 
this  blasted  hole  closes  up  some  day?  What  then? 
It'll  be  a  fine  place  then,  no  doubt.  Hey,  Mr. 
Thirkle?  What  then?" 


"ONE  MAN  LESS"  265 

"No  fear  of  that,"  said  Thirkle.  "It's  wider  at 
the  top  than  at  the  bottom,  and  the  tops  hang  away. 
I  looked  into  all  that  when  I  decided  to  put  it  in 
here.  There  isn't  as  much  water  as  ye  think, 
Bucky ;  and  it's  under  foot  what  there  is  of  it,  and,  the 
way  we've  got  it  stowed  here,  one  atop  of  the  other, 
only  the  bottom  one  '11  be  very  wet  —  and  gold  don't 
rust." 

"These  guineas  will  be  thick  with  scale,  and  ye'll 
need  a  chipping  hammer  to  clean  'em  when  ye  have 
'em  outside  again.  Ye  talk  about  folks  bein'  sus 
picious  of  gold,  but  I  say  they're  quicker  to  turn  up 
their  noses  and  say  things  about  gold  that's  been 
stowed  in  the  wet  and  turned  black." 

"But  gold  don't  rust,  Bucky.  That's  sure  — 
gold  don't  rust,"  said  Petrak. 

"That's  all  very  well:  but  I  mind  when  I  dropped 
half  a  crown  in  a  pool  back  home,  and  in  a  fortnight 
it  was  thick  as  my  hand.  Think  I'm  a  fool?  I 
know  what  I'm  talkin'  about,  if  ye  don't.  Go  ahead 
and  side  with  Thirkle  if  ye  like." 

"That  was  silver,  Bucky.  Gold  don't  rust  like 
that.  I  always  knew  gold  don't  rust,  and  now  Thir 
kle  says  it  don't,  and  Thirkle  knows,  as  he  always 
did.  Mind  we  always  asked  Thirkle?" 

"I'm  not  asking  him  any  more  if  ye  want  to  know, 
vote  or  no  vote.  My  vote  is  as  good  as  Thirkle's, 
and  it's  good  as  yours;  and  ye  can  side  with  him  if 
ye  want." 


266          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"But  gold  don't  rust,"  said  Petrak  mockingly. 

"Ye  think  I'm  a  fool?"  shrieked  Buckrow,  turning 
on  Petrak.  He  was  nearest  the  outside,  and  I  could 
see  his  figure  silhouetted  against  the  light  at  the 
entrance.  He  stooped  down  and  put  his  face  close 
to  Petrak. 

"Fool  or  not,  gold  don't  rust,  I'm  telling  ye 
Buck " 

"Then  take  that  from  a  fool!"  And  Buckrow 
struck  him  square  in  the  face  with  his  fist,  hurling 
him  back  on  my  shoulders,  so  that  I  fell  forward  on 
my  hands. 

"That's  rotten  mean,  Bucky,"  I  heard  Petrak 
whining.  "That's  rotten  mean  in  here  in  the  dark, 
Bucky." 

"That  is  rotten  mean,  Petrak,"  said  Thirkle 
indignantly.  "I  wouldn't  stand  for  that  if  I  were 
you." 

"Oh,  ye  wouldn't,  hey?  Well,  we'll  see  what  ye 
stand  for  soon's  ye  come  out  into  the  clear  —  that's 
what  we'll  see,  Thirkle." 

"It's  rotten  mean,"  whimpered  Petrak.  "I 
wouldn't  do  the  likes  o'  that  to  ye,  Bucky;  not  if  ye 
never  agreed  along  with  me  —  it's  rotten  mean." 

"Ye'll  get  worse  as  that  is.  Now,  does  gold  rust, 
ye  little  runt?  Say  it!  Does  gold  rust?" 

"That's  hardly  fair,  Buck/,"  said  Thirkle. 
"That's  hardly  fair  on  the  little  chap  after  he's  stood 
by  ye  so  long." 


"ONE  MAN  LESS"  267 

"Fair  enough  for  me,  Thirkle,  and  fair  enough 
for  ye  it  '11  be  when  ye  come  out." 

"What  do  ye  mean  by  that,  Buck?"  demanded 
Thirkle,   speaking  over  my  shoulder;  and  then  he 
whispered    to   Petrak:     "Give   it   to   him,    Red - 
now's  yer  chance.     Quick,  lad!" 

"Soon  enough  ye'll  find  out  what  I  mean,  Thirkle; 
that's  what.  If  the  two  of  ye  think  yer  going  to  side 
together  ag'in'  me,  well  and  good;  but  look  out  for 
Bad  Buckrow,  I  say.  I'll  make  my  meanin'  blasted 
clear,  too.  Mind  that." 

"My  jaw's  broke!"  cried  Petrak,  struggling  to  his 
feet,  breathing  hard.  Then  without  warning  he 
sprang  on  Buckrow's  back  with  a  snarl  like  an 
animal,  and  the  two  of  them  went  down  in  the  nar 
row  passage. 

"Gawd  a'mighty!"  screamed  Buckrow,  with  every 
bit  of  air  in  his  lungs,  and  I  heard  Petrak  strike 
again. 

"Red  —  he  got  me  —  he  - 

"Good!"  said  Thirkle  into  my  ear,  as  if  speaking 
to  me.  "I  never  thought  the  little  chap  had  the 
innards  for  it,  but  he  did  as  long  as  he  could  strike 
from  behind." 

Petrak  was  holding  Buckrow  down,  and  his  victim 
was  breathing  hard  and  writhing  under  him,  with  his 
face  buried  in  the  ground.  He  coughed  twice,  as  if 
there  was  something  caught  in  his  throat,  and  then 
was  still. 


268          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"Did  ye  get  him  Petrak?" 

"I  done  for  him,  Thirkle.  I  done  for  him  good. 
That's  the  last  of  Bucky.  Mind  how  I  fooled  him, 
Thirkle?  Said  my  jaw  was  broke." 

"Good  work,  Reddy,  lad.  Good  work,  but  be 
sure  or  he'll  wing  ye  yet.  Sure  he  ain't  playing 
chink  with  ye?" 

"Oh,  he's  done  right  enough.  That  leaves  two 
of  us  —  hey,  Thirkle?  Ye  know  Bucky  would  a  done 
for  ye  but  for  me  —  wouldn't  he,  Thirkle?  Ye 
know  that's  right  —  don't  ye,  Thirkle?" 

"That's  right,  Reddy,"  said  Thirkle.  "It's  a 
good  job  he's  done  for  —  and  now  there  is  two  of  us, 
you  and  me,  Reddy.  I  never  did  like  Bucky;  but  I 
like  you,  Red.  He  wanted  his  fight,  and  he  got  it. 
I  knew  ye  wouldn't  take  that  from  him.  No  man 
could  stand  for  such  as  that  in  here." 

"That  leaves  all  the  more  for  us  —  don't  it, 
Thirkle?" 

"All  the  more  for  us,  Reddy.  Drag  him  out,  and 
now  we'll  settle  this  navvy's  job.  It's  one  man  less 
in  the  fo'c'sle  mess,  and  dead  men  tell  no  tales;  and 
now  we'll  have  to  do  the  work  a  bit  short-handed;  but 
we  can  clean  it  up  between  us  now,  and  no  more 
fighting  going  on." 

Petrak  pulled  the  body  out  after  h:m,  and  Thirkle 
helped  him  carry  it  into  the  brush,  where  they 
dumped  it  without  ceremony,  and  Thirkle  found 
another  bottle  of  brandy  and  offered  it  to  Petrak. 


"ONE  MAN  LESS"  269 

"I'll  just  take  a  pair  of  these  pistols,  Reddy,"  he 
said,  relieving  him  of  the  belt  he  had  taken  from 
Buckrow.  "You  don't  need  all  those  pistols,  now 
that  Bucky  is  done  for." 

"But  ye  was  to  bear  no  arms,  Thirkle,"  grinned 
Petrak. 

"That's  what  I  told  Bucky,  but  you  and  me'll  get 
along  better  than  we  did  with  Bucky;  and  ye  don't 
intend  to  hold  me  to  that  —  do  ye,  Red  ? " 

"I  was  only  joking  a  bit,  Thirkle.  We're  to 
gether  now  on  the  split,  ain't  we?  Well,  friends 
don't  have  to  make  such  agreements.  I  sail  with 
you,  and  you  sail  with  me;  and  no  articles  signed  be 
yond  that,  I  say.  What,  Thirkle?" 

"That's  what.  Have  another  drink,  Red.  That 
was  a  good  job  ye  did  for  me  with  Bucky,  even  if  he 
did  play  you  mean." 

"He  was  a  bad  one,  all  right,"  agreed  Petrak, 
wiping  his  mouth  and  giving  Thirkle  the  bottle. 
"Bad  Buckrow  they  called  him  when  I  first  knew 
him,  and  bad  he  was  to  the  end;  but  I  never  looked 
to  give  to  him,  leastwise  not  the  way  I  did,  in  a  hole 
like  that.  Howsome  it  be,  I  don't  stand  for  no 
smash  in  the  mouth  like  he  give  me  —  ain't  that 
right,  Thirkle?" 

"Right  you  are,  but  it's  time  we  had  this  stuff 
cleaned  up  now.  You  and  Mr.  Trenholm  set  at  it 
while  I  put  Bucky  under  ground." 

Petrak  and  I  resumed  the  work  of  carrying  the 


270          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

sacks  into  the  crevice,  while  Thirkle  busied  himself 
at  digging  a  grave  in  the  soft  sand  near  the  place 
they  had  deposited  Buckrow's  body.  The  little 
red-headed  man  began  to  whistle  a  music-hall  tune 
softly,  but  Thirkle  cautioned  him  against  making 
any  unnecessary  noise. 

I  was  in  an  agony  from  my  cramped  position,  and 
tugging  at  the  sacks  served  to  increase  my  torture. 
The  tangle  of  ropes  which  Buckrow  had  put  on  my 
ankles  caught  in  loose  stones  and  chafed  the  flesh 
until  the  blood  came;  and  my  wrists,  pulled  down 
with  tight  knots,  which  I  had  to  strain  against  to 
keep  my  balance,  throbbed  and  pained  and  tingled, 
my  arms  being  numbed  by  the  blood  in  the  bound 
arteries. 

Petrak  kept  before  me,  with  the  sacks  between  us, 
and  his  bloody  knife  pulled  to  the  front  of  his  belt. 
After  he  had  stowed  each  sack  he  helped  me  back  out, 
or  assisted  me  to  turn,  which  was  always  a  hard  task 
for  me. 

If  I  let  my  end  of  the  sack  slip  out  of  my  fingers 
he  was  ready  for  me  with  knife  or  pistol,  so  there  was 
no  opportunity  to  take  a  pistol  or  knife  from  him, 
even  if  I  had  not  been  helplessly  hobbled. 

"Mind  ye  don't  try  any  monkey-business  with 
me,"  he  warned  the  second  time  we  went  in.  "If  ye 
do,  I'll  give  ye  what  Bucky  got,  and  ye  mind  that. 
I'm  no  gent  to  fool  with,  as  ye  ought  to  savvy  by  this; 
and  if  ye  think  I  be,  try  something." 


"ONE  MAN  LESS"  271 

But,  for  all  his  warning,  I  was  ready  to  risk  death 
if  I  saw  the  chance  to  make  -a  fight.  I  hoped  that 
Thirkle  would  give  him  more  of  the  brandy,  but 
Thirkle  kept  the  bottle  to  himself.  When  we 
pressed  into  the  crevice  I  wore  the  ropes  on  my  wrists 
against  the  stones  as  much  as  I  could,  trying  to  cut 
the  bonds  on  the  rough  points  of  the  walls.  Once  I 
stumbled  and  fell  and  groped  for  a  splinter  of  stone, 
but  he  menaced  me  with  his  knife  and  kicked  me 
until  I  got  to  my  feet  again. 

I  had  given  up  hope  of  being  rescued  by  Captain 
Riggs.  Even  if  he  found  the  camp,  I  doubted  that 
he  would  attack  until  it  would  be  too  late  for  me, 
as  he  would  naturally  suppose  Buckrow  and  Long 
Jim  to  be  near  by. 

It  was  coming  on  toward  twilight,  and  there  were 
still  seven  sacks  to  be  carried  in.  Thirkle  had 
finished  burying  Buckrow,  and  set  to  dragging  the 
sacks  close  to  the  entrance  of  the  crevice,  so  we 
would  not  have  to  carry  them  so  far. 

Petrak  made  several  attempts  to  talk  with  him; 
but  Thirkle  made  short  answers,  for  when  he  took 
the  pistols  he  had  dropped  his  mask  of  affability  and 
assumed  his  old  commanding  airs. 

"It'll  be  dark  before  we  get  back  to  the  boats," 
suggested  Petrak,  as  we  stood  over  the  five  sacks 
which  were  left. 

"Mighty  dark,"  said  Thirkle  gruffly,  sitting  cross- 
legged,  counting  a  packet  of  English  banknotes. 


272          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"That's  what  ye  want,  aint'  it?"  asked  Petrak, 
who  noticed  that  Thirkle  was  not  so  friendly  as  he 
had  been. 

"You  keep  to  work  and  never  mind  so  much  talk," 
said  Thirkle.  "If  ye  stand  there  that  way,  it'll 
be  morning  before  we  get  away." 

"I'm  workin',  ain't  I?  Can't  a  man  stop  to 
breathe,  himself,  I'd  like  to  know?" 

Thirkle  made  no  reply,  but  went  on  running  his 
thumb  over  the  ends  of  the  notes.  I  stood  and 
watched  them,  waiting  for  Petrak  to  stoop  and  take 
a  sack. 

"Yer  goin'  to  play  fair  with  me  —  ain't  ye, 
Thirkle?"  whined  Petrak,  a  trace  of  fear  crossing  his 
face.  "We're  in  together,  share  and  share  alike 
now  —  ain't  we,  Thirkle?  I  can  ask  that,  can't 
I?" 

"Ye'll  get  yer  share,  Reddy,"  said  Thirkle,  smil 
ing. 

"That's  half  —  ain't  it,  Thirkle?  Ye  mind  what 
I  done  for  ye  with  Bucky,  don't  ye?" 

"Aye,  half  of  it,  of  course,  Red.  Reef  that  jaw  of 
yours  now,  lad,  and  clap  on.  Don't  stand  there  like 
a  Jew  and  wrangle  over  the  loot.  Want  to  stop  and 
count  it  now,  lad?" 

"Ye  told  Long  Jim  to  do  for  me  —  didn't  ye, 
Thirkle?"  Petrak  grinned,  and  his  fingers  twitched 
toward  the  butt  of  a  pistol.  I  knew  what  was  in  his 
mind. 


MAN  LESS"  273 


"What's  that?"  demanded  Thirkle.  "Oh,  run 
along  now,  Red,  like  a  good  chap,  and  get  the  gold 
stowed.  Didn't  I  tell  ye  to  get  Long  Jim,  and  didn't 
ye  get  him?  What  more's  to  be  said?  Run  along 
now,  Reddy,  and  pack  it  away." 

"That's  what  Long  Jim  said,"  insisted  Petrak 
doggedly.  There  was  murder  in  his  eyes,  while  his 
face  was  livid  with  fear. 

"Then  he  lied,  and  ye  ought  to  take  my  word 
against  his.  Don't  be  a  fool  now,  Reddy,  like  the 
others.  Ye'll  get  your  share,  bank  on  that.  Yer  a 
good  sort,  Petrak;  and  I  need  ye  to  help  me  get  it 
away,  and  we'll  share  and  share  alike,  as  I  told  ye. 
Do  you  think  I'd  play  dirt  with  ye  after  all  we've 
been  through  together,  Reddy?" 

"Course  not.  Don't  mind  my  lip,  Thirkle,  old 
chap.  No  harm  done,  is  there?" 

"No  harm  done,  Reddy,"  said  Thirkle,  glancing 
at  me  suspiciously,  as  if  he  thought  I  had  been  turn 
ing  Petrak  against  him. 

"No  harm  in  what  I  say,  Thirkle,"  and  Petrak 
took  up  the  end  of  the  sack.  His  mistrust  of  Thirkle 
gave  me  an  idea,  which  I  put  into  play  as  soon  as 
we  were  well  inside  the  crevice. 

"Petrak,"  I  whispered  dropping  my  end  of  the 
sack,  and  compelling  him  to  let  it  down. 

"What's  up  now?"  he  whispered. 

"He'll  kill  you,  too,  Reddy.  He's  planning  it  out 
now;  and  if  you  let  him,  he'll  kill  both  of  us  before 


274          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

he  quits  this  island.     Are  you  going  to  let  him  do  it, 
Reddy?" 

He  growled  out  something  and  fumbled  at  his  belt, 
and  it  was  touch  and  go  with  him  whether  he  would 
knife  me  and  then  run  out  and  tell  Thirkle  to  gain 
credit  with  him. 

"His  mind  is  made  up,  Reddy.  He  may  let  us 
help  him  get  a  boat  into  the  water,  but  that's  all. 
He'll  murder  both  of  us  like  dogs." 

"Old  Thirkle's  all  right,"  he  said  weakly,  as  if  he 
felt  the  truth  of  what  I  said,  but  lacked  courage  to 
attack  Thirkle. 

"Reddy,  he'll  kill  you!"  I  went  on,  seeing  that  I  was 
on  the  right  track,  and  that  fear  of  death  at  Thirkle's 
hands  was  uppermost  in  his  mind. 

He  had  caught  enough  in  Thirkle's  manner  since 
the  death  of  Buckrow  to  see  that  he  was  not  going 
to  get  a  just  division  of  the  loot,  at  the  very  least, 
and,  knowing  the  ruthlessness  of  his  master,  he  had 
doubts  about  escaping  with  his  life.  Besides,  I 
believed  he  had  been  tempted  by  the  thought  that 
he  might  kill  Thirkle  and  then  have  it  all  to 
himself. 

"He  told  Long  Jim  to  kill  you?  Don't  you  see  the 
way  the  devil  had  it  planned  to  get  rid  of  you?  He 
planned  to  kill  you  all,  once  he  had  this  gold  on  the 
island.  You  should  never  have  come  back  after  I 
shot  Long  Jim.  Why  did  you  come  back?  You 
know  he'll  kill  you." 


"ONE  MAN  LESS"  275 

"I  wanted  to  see  where  they  hide  the  gold,  that's 
what.  Then,  when  I  raised  you  there  in  the  grass 
it  come  in  my  head  to  grab  ye,  and  come  in  for 
my  share  of  the  gold,  seeing  Long  Jim  was  done 
for." 

His  friendly  mood  encouraged  me,  but,  if  I  let  him 
ramble  on  with  his  own  affairs,  I  would  not  be  able 
to  convince  him  that  Thirkle  was  plotting  to  slay  him. 
So  I  began  with  him  again. 

"Thirkle  will  kill  the  both  of  us.  You  heard  what 
he  said  about  being  a  gentleman.  He  has  been  an 
officer  in  the  navy,  Reddy,  and  he  won't  want  you 
or  any  other  man  to  know  he  was  a  pirate  when  he 
goes  back  to  London.  He  wouldn't  feel  safe  if  he 
let  you  live.  He  cares  no  more  for  you  than  he  did 
for  Buckrow  or  Long  Jim  —  you  ought  to  know 
that." 

"Oh,  Thirkle  is  all  right,"  he  said  in  a  way  that 
exasperated  me. 

"He  wouldn't  look  at  you  twice  in  London 
or  anywhere  else.  He'll  rid  himself  of  you  as 
soon  as  he  needs  you  no  more,  which  will  be 
as  soon  as  the  gold  is  stowed  and  he  has  a  boat 
in  the  water.  Now  is  your  chance  if  you  ever 
had  it." 

"Thirkle  is  all  right." 

"He  had  it  planned  to  kill  Buckrow.  Then  he 
argued  the  two  of  you  into  letting  him  go.  Can't 
you  see  that  he  is  playing  the  game  to  have  it  all 


276          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

for  himself?  Are  you  going  to  be  a  fool  all  your  life, 
man?" 

"Then  ye'd  do  for  me  after  I  done  for  him,"  he 
said. 

"Give  me  a  gun  and  cut  me  loose  and  I'll  shoot  him 
myself  and  I'll  see  that  you  get  your  share  of  the 
gold,  which  you  won't  from  him.  You  can  have  it 
all  if  you'll  let  me  kill  him,  and  if  he  kills  me  you 
can  say  I  cut  my  hands  loose  and  grabbed  a  gun. 
You  don't  stand  to  lose  anything  —  come  on.  Cut 
me  loose  and  I'll  take  the  chance  you  don't  dare  to." 

"Thirkle's  all  right,"  he  droned,  picking  up  the 
sack  again.  "I  know  your  game  —  ye  want  to  do 
for  the  both  of  us  and  have  it  all  for  yourself.  Fine 
job  that  would  be!  Nice  I'd  look  givin'  you  a  gun, 
wouldn't  I!  Lay  on  that  sack." 

"He's  all  very  pleasant  now,"  I  went  on  as  I 
stooped  for  the  rope.  "Wait  until  he  has  finished 
with  us  and  the  gold  is  packed,  and  then  see  what 
will  happen  —  you'll  wish  you  had  listened  to  me." 

"Pipe  down  with  that,"  he  growled,  and  I  saw 
the  uselessness  of  trying  to  make  the  lout  see  reason. 
I  now  began  to  fear  that  he  would  tell  Thirkle  what 
I  had  said  to  him. 

When  we  went  out  for  another  sack,  Petrak  looked 
over  at  Thirkle  and  hesitated  as  if  he  wanted  to  say 
something,  but  Thirkle  was  writing  in  a  little  book, 
with  a  pistol  between  his  feet. 

"Well,  what  is  it  now?"  he  demanded  truculently, 


"ONE  MAN  LESS"  277 

having  seen  something  suspicious  in  Petrak's  man 
ner.  "What's  the  lay  now?  What  have  ye  got  yer 
hand  so  close  to  that  gun  for?  Take  a  shot  at  me  if 
you  want  —  go  on,  take  a  shot  at  old  Thirkle,  if 
ye're  that  game." 

"Only  a  habit  o'  mine,  keepin'  my  gun  well  for'ard, 
Thirkle,"  whimpered  Petrak,  shivering.  "I  have 
to  keep  a  close  eye  on  the  writin'  chap,  Thirkle.  No 
offence,  I  hope." 

"Look  lively  now,  lad,"  said  Thirkle,  turning 
amiable  again,  but  only  to  reassure  Petrak.  "Here's 
the  last  of  it  and  get  it  away  and  we'll  get  under 
way." 

We  carried  another  sack  in  and  I  waited  until  we 
were  at  the  far  end  and  had  dumped  it  before  I  began 
again  with  Petrak.  I  knew  his  natural  treachery  was 
near  the  surface,  and  it  needed  but  little  urging  to 
bring  him  to  the  point  when  he  would  turn  against 
Thirkle. 

"We  might  as  well  say  good-bye  now,"  I  said  as 
mournfully  as  I  could.  "You  remember  I  treated 
you  pretty  well  in  Manila,  and  I'm  sorry  for  you  now. 
It  doesn't  matter  much  with  me  how  I  end  now,  be 
cause  Thirkle  has  the  drop  on  me,  but  I'm  sorry  for 
you  —  you  ought  to  have  your  share  of  it,  and 
Thirkle  ought  to  play  fair  with  you,  but  he  won't. 
That  devil  out  there  will  kill  us  both  in  the  next  ten 
minutes  unless  you  give  me  a  gun  and  let  me  kill 
him.  I'm  not  afraid  of  him  —  give  me  a  gun!" 


278          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"Thirkle  ain't  bad,"  he  said,  as  if  trying  to  con 
vince  himself  that  he  was  not  afraid  of  Thirkle. 
"He  ain't  bad  —  he  said  he'd  play  fair  with  me,  and 
he  will." 

I  laughed  gently. 

"Yes,  he'll  play  fair  —  with  himself.  He's  out 
there  now  putting  down  directions  for  getting  back 
here  —  alone.  Give  me  a  gun,  and  let  me  free,  and 
I'll  kill  him  for  you.  When  I've  settled  him  I'll 
call  you,  and  if  he  gets  me  it's  all  the  same  —  except 
that  you'll  lose  in  the  end. 

"But  with  me  you  have  a  chance  to  win  —  can't 
you  see  that?  You  haven't  a  chance  with  Thirkle. 
If  he  gets  me,  don't  trust  him  —  shoot  him  the 
minute  you  can  get  the  muzzle  of  your  pistol  on  him. 
If  you  let  me  try  you  have  two  chances  at  him,  and 
you  can  kill  me  if  you  choose  afterward  —  or  give 
me  a  knife  if  you  don't  dare  to  let  me  have  a  gun." 

"He'll  do  for  ye.  Not  a  chance  for  ye  with  Thirkle 
in  gun-play." 

"But  give  me  a  chance  to  fight  for  my  life,"  I 
pleaded.  "If  I  can  put  him  out  of  the  way,  so  much 
the  better  for  you;  but  it's  death  for  both  of  us  if  we 
go  on  this  way.  Give  me  a  gun,  and  I  swear  I'll 
let  you  go  free  if  we  ever  get  off  this  island." 

"He'll  kill  you  and  then  come  and  get  me,"  he 
whined.  "There  ain't  a  chance  to  get  Thirkle  as 
easy  as  that.  He'll  do  for  me  if  you  take  a  shot  at 
him." 


"ONE  MAN  LESS"  279 

"Of  course  he  will  if  we  stand  here  and  argue  about 
it  until  it  is  too  late!"  I  stormed  at  him.  "Pass  me 
a  gun  —  don't  be  a  fool,  Reddy.  Quick!  Cut  these 
ropes  from  my  hands  and  give  me  a  pistol  and 
let  me  show  you  how  to  draw  your  Mr.  Thirkle's 
teeth!" 


CHAPTER  XX 

THE    LAST 

WHAT'S  all  this  social  chatter  between 
you  two?"  demanded  Thirkle  from  the 
entrance  to  the  crevice.  I  did  not  know 
how  much  he  had  overheard,  but  I  determined  to 
make  one  more  effort  to  get  the  pistol. 

"Quick,"  I  whispered  to  Petrak.  "Hand  me 
the  gun  and  free  my  hands!" 

"It  ain't  me,"  whined  Petrak.  "It's  the  writin' 
chap  here.  Get  along  out,"  and  he  struck  me  over 
the  head  and  I  knew  I  had  lost,  although  there  was 
a  doubt  that  Petrak  would  ever  have  given  me 
the  pistol. 

"What's  he  up  to  now,  Reddy?  What's  the  nice 
young  man  trying  to  do?" 

"Wanted  to  do  for  ye,  that's  what,  Thirkle. 
Wanted  a  gun,  but  he  got  no  gun  from  me.  Said 
you  wouldn't  play  fair  with  me,  Thirkle,  but  I  said 
ye  would." 

"So  ye  want  to  take  a  hand  in  things  here,  do 
you,  Mr.  Trenholm?"  said  Thirkle  as  I  came  out. 
"Still  got  an  idea  you  can  beat  old  Thirkle  at  his 
own  game.  Learning  new  tricks,  I  see.  Before 

280 


THE  LAST  281 

long  ye'd  be  ready  to  boss  the  job.  Didn't  take  ye 
long  to  forget  what  I  told  ye  of  the  other  smart  chap 
who  wanted  to  settle  me  and  take  command  himself, 
did  it?" 

"You  stick  to  your  pen  and  typewriter,  Mr. 
Trenholm,  and  let  me  run  my  own  crew  —  nice 
pirate  ye'd  make,  with  silk  underwear  and  a  type 
writer,"  and  he  and  Petrak  laughed  loudly  at  the  joke, 

"I  told  him  you  would  kill  him,  and  so  you  will," 
I  said,  mustering  as  much  defiance  as  I  could  under 
the  circumstances. 

"Kill  Mr.  Petrak  here!  Ha,  ha,  ha!  Why,  he's 
my  partner,  Mr.  Petrak  is,  and  we're  going  to  share 
this  gold  together,  share  and  share  alike,  as  gentle 
men  do." 

"He  wanted  to  do  for  ye,  Thirkle,"  said  Petrak, 
flattered  by  his  master  and  unable  to  see  the  sly 
sarcasm  of  Thirkle  in  his  joy  at  being  assured  of 
his  position,  and  of  getting  his  share  of  the  gold. 
"I  never  give  him  the  chance,  Thirkle.  Now  if  it 
was  some  —  say  Buckrow  or  Long  Jim,  they  might 
give  him  a  gun,  but  not  Petrak.  Ye  know  I  ain't 
the  kind  to  turn  on  a  pal,  Thirkle,  and  I  say  you 
stick  to  me  and  I'll  stick  to  you,  come  what  do. 
Ain't  that  right,  Thirkle?" 

"Reddy,  yer  true  blue,"  and  he  took  Petrak's 
hand  and  shook  it  vigorously,  and  patted  the  little 
rat  on  the  back.  "Stick  to  Thirkle  and  Thirkle 
will  stick  to  you  like  a  Dutch  uncle,  and  never  mind 


282          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

what  Mr.  Trenholm  has  to  say.  He's  not  in  this,  or 
won't  be  long,  and  it  won't  be  many  days  before  we 
are  counting  out  the  gold  between  us. 

"I've  got  enough  five-pound  notes  here  to  buy 
the  little  yacht,  and  I'll  take  some  of  the  gold,  but 
not  much.  We'll  be  back  here  before  the  month 
is  out,  all  slick  and  snug,  and  then  away  for 
London." 

"I'll  stick  like  paint,  Thirkle;  lay  to  that,"  said 
Petrak,  grinning  at  me.  "I  knew  he  was  on  the 
wrong  course  when  he  come  that  gun  talk  to  me, 
and  I  told  him  Thirkle  was  all  right,  and  that  I 
knowed  ye  better  than  him,  and  so  I  do  —  hey, 
Thirkle?" 

"You  had  better  give  me  your  pistols  until  you 
are  done,  Reddy.  Ye  can't  trust  these  gentlemen 
who  write  —  they  have  too  much  imagination,  and 
they  are  too  foxy  for  men  like  you  and  me,  Reddy. 
There's  no  telling  what  he  might  do  in  there  if  you 
have  guns  and  knives  on  ye.  Pass  'em  over,  Reddy, 
or  he'll  do  for  us  yet." 

Petrak  gave  up  his  weapons  joyfully,  not  realizing 
that  he  was  being  disarmed  for  the  very  purpose 
I  had  warned  him  about -- Thirkle  was  getting 
ready  to  finish  his  job  in  earnest. 

"Now  get  along  and  dump  the  last  of  it  in  there, 
and  move  navy  style  or  we'll  be  here  at  dark.  No 
more  soldiering,  Petrak:  and  see  that  ye  keep  yer 
jaw  battened  down,  Mr.  Trenholm,  or  I'll  take 


THE  LAST  283 

a  hand  in  this  that  ye  won't  relish  and  attend  to  ye 
in  a  way  ye  won't  fancy." 

"Ye'll  play  fair  with  me,  won't  ye,  Thirkle?" 
asked  Petrak. 

"Fair  as  ye  deserve.  Move  along  with  that 
cargo." 

Petrak  began  to  whine  to  himself,  and  I  said 
nothing  more  until  we  went  in  with  the  last  sack. 

"You  fool,  he'll  kill  you  as  I  told  you  he  would, 
but  you  are  too  late  now." 

"Oh,  Thirkle's  all  right,"  he  grumbled;  but  he 
seemed  worried  since  he  had  given  up  the  pistols, 
and  he  saw  plainly  enough  that  Thirkle's  manner 
had  changed  in  no  undecided  way  since  Petrak  had 
surrendered  his  weapons. 

"All  clear,"  said  Thirkle,  as  we  came  out.  He 
was  measuring  rope,  and  had  his  jacket  on  and  a 
bundle  rolled  up,  and  all  the  camp  litter  was  removed 
and  dead  leaves  scattered  over  our  tracks. 

"Can  I  have  my  guns  now,  Thirkle?  I  don't  like 
to  go  down  the  trail  without  a  gun  —  no  knowin' 
what  might  happen." 

"Never  would  do  yet,  Reddy.  Take  this  knife 
and  cut  the  lines  away  from  Mr.  Trenholm's  feet, 
and  we'll  fix  him  so  he  can  navigate  back  to  the 
boats.  You  take  the  lead  back,  Reddy,  because 
you  know  the  way  better  than  I  do,  and  I'll  make 
Mr.  Trenholm  fast  to  ye,  and  follow  on.  We'll 
need  to  look  sharp  to  make  the  beach  before  dark." 


284          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

"But  I  want  my  guns,  Thirkle.  Fair  play's  fair 
play,  and  I  want  my  guns." 

"Never  mind  the  guns,  I  say.  Mr.  Trenholm 
will  be  right  at  your  back  all  the  way  down,  and  we 
can't  take  any  chances  now,  Reddy.  I'll  settle 
him  when  the  boats  are  off,  and  then  you  won't 
have  anything  to  worry  about.  Cut  his  feet  loose." 

"What  style  of  a  funeral  would  suit  him?"  asked 
Petrak,  busy  with  the  cords  at  my  feet. 

"We'll  have  to  select  something  special  for  Mr. 
Trenholm.  How  about  the  same  go-off  we  gave 
Caldish?  Remember  Caldish?  Wanted  to  say  his 
prayers.  Quick  and  neat  it  was,  and  no  mess." 

"If  he  helps  with  the  boats,  how  about  a  tow  out 
at  the  end  of  a  painter,  Thirkle?  He'll  make  good 
shark  bait,  only  some  skinny." 

"That  would  do  for  him  nicely,  Reddy.  We'll 
let  him  push  the  boat  well  out,  and,  when  he  has 
her  clear,  pull  away  and  give  him  plenty  of  line. 
That's  a  capital  idea,  Reddy,  and  we'll  use  it." 

They  bound  my  arms  to  my  sides,  and  put  the 
end  of  the  rope  round  Petrak's  waist,  so  that  I  was 
about  five  feet  behind  him  when  it  was  taut.  In 
this  way  we  set  out  for  the  beach,  with  Petrak  in 
the  lead  and  Thirkle,  carrying  his  bundle  and  smok 
ing  a  cigar,  treading  on  my  heels,  to  make  me  keep 
close  up. 

The  sun  was  not  quite  down,  but  the  jungle  was 
rilling  with  shadows,  and,  once  the  sun  got  below 


THE  LAST  285 

the  horizon,  night  would  close  down  on  us  with  the 
tropical  swiftness  that  knows  no  twilight,  and  the 
day  would  go  out  like  a  candle  under  a  snuffer. 

Thirkle  had  been  drinking  of  the  brandy,  and 
was  in  a  jolly  mood,  and  he  had  given  Petrak  a  good 
swig  of  it  to  lighten  the  little  rascal's  feet,  but  I  re 
fused  the  bottle  when  it  was  offered  to  me,  for,  low 
as  my  spirits  were,  and  racked  as  my  body  was,  I 
could  not  come  to  accept  their  ghastly  hospi 
tality. 

If  I  let  the  rope  tighten  between  me  and  Petrak, 
Thirkle  prodded  me  with  the  point  of  a  knife,  and, 
as  I  was  faint  with  hunger  and  thirst,  and  utterly 
worn  out,  I  frequently  stumbled  and  fell,  when  they 
both  set  upon  me  and  beat  me  to  my  feet.  Petrak 
pulling  me  up  with  the  rope,  while  Thirkle  scourged 
me  with  a  leather  thong. 

We  had  been  on  the  road  about  half  an  hour 
when  I  recognized  the  spot  where  Captain  Riggs  had 
crawled  into  the  brush  to  rest,  and  I  began  to  com 
plain  loudly  and  made  as  much  noise  as  possible, 
hoping  that  the  captain  and  Rajah  might  still  be 
concealed  near  by. 

"Keep  close!"  yelled  Petrak,  as  I  let  the  rope 
tighten  and  hung  back. 

"Get  along  or  I'll  flay  ye  alive!"  thundered 
Thirkle,  which  was  what  I  wanted  him  to  do. 

"Then  don't  let  those  low  limbs  fly  back  on  me," 
I  cried  as  loudly  as  I  dared  without  exciting  their 


286          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

suspicion  of  my  purpose.  "They  knock  me  off 
my  feet,  and  that's  why  I  can't  keep  close  up." 

"Shut  yer  jaw,"  said  Thirkle,  and  I  stumbled 
along  again,  wondering  what  had  become  of  Captain 
Riggs,  and  wondering  if  he  had  been  lured  into  the 
jungle  by  the  shots  I  had  exchanged  with  Long 
Jim,  and  was  lost. 

I  kept  straining  at  the  cords  about  me,  but  al 
though  I  hurt  the  wounds  on  my  wrists  until  I 
was  weak  from  pain,  I  could  not  free  myself.  If 
nothing  better  offered,  I  was  determined  to  make 
a  dash  at  Thirkle  if  he  freed  my  hands  to  work 
at  the  boat.  If  I  could  not  surprise  him  in  the 
dark  and  get  hold  of  a  knife  or  pistol,  I  could  at 
least  give  him  a  fight  even  if  I  died  in  a  last 
attempt  to  save  myself.  I  much  preferred  to  die 
fighting  than  at  the  end  of  a  rope  in  the  water,  as 
Petrak  had  suggested. 

I  knew  they  would  have  to  find  the  oars  before 
they  could  get  a  boat  away,  and  the  missing  plugs 
might  cause  them  a  deal  of  trouble  if  they  launched 
the  boats  without  noticing  their  loss.  I  hoped  that 
I  might  find  a  chance  of  escape  in  the  darkness  if 
the  boat  filled  with  them  after  they  got  it  into 
the  water. 

Finally  we  came  to  level  ground,  and  I  knew  we 
were  close  to  the  beach,  for  we  could  hear  the  rollers. 
The  brush  was  thicker  in  the  marsh,  and  we  got  off 
the  trail,  but  we  could  see  patches  of  the  moon- 


THE  LAST  287 

light  on  the  water  ahead,  and  caught  the  white 
flash  of  the  waves  tumbling  on  the  shingle. 

Petrak  left  the  bed  of  the  brook  and  pushed  his 
way  straight  ahead  through  the  dense  foliage  which 
shut  us  off  from  the  beach.  I  fell  and  made  a  great 
racket,  setting  up  a  wail  about  my  leg  and  swearing 
that  I  had  broken  it,  and  begging  Thirkle  to  help  me. 

He  struck  at  me  with  his  thong,  and,  although 
he  missed,  I  screamed  at  the  top  of  my  voice,  as  a 
warning  to  Captain  Riggs,  in  case  he  should  be 
lurking  about.  Besides,  I  hoped  my  play  that  I 
had  been  badly  crippled  would  give  me  a  better 
opportunity  to  escape  or  to  attack  them,  as  they 
would  be  more  careless  if  they  thought  I  was  per 
fectly  helpless. 

"I'll  give  ye  something  to  yell  about  soon,"  said 
Thirkle.  "Just  wait  a  while  and  I'll  give  ye  some 
thing  to  make  a  real  fuss  about.  Maybe  ye  think 
there's  a  ship  near  —  maybe  there  is;  but  it  won't 
do  ye  much  good,  so  let's  not  have  any  more  of  this 
bawling.  I  thought  ye  was  gamer  than  that,  my 
fine  Mr.  Trenholm." 

"Here  we  are,  Thirkle!"  cried  Petrak,  pushing 
the  wall  and  bushes  aside  and  showing  us  the  moonlit 
sea  and  the  loom  of  the  mainland  shouldering  up 
into  the  stars.  "It  can't  be  far  to  the  boats, 
Thirkle." 

We  went  out  into  the  still  warm  sand.  The  moon, 
lean  in  its  first  quarter,  hung  over  the  top  of  the 


288          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

island,  silvering  the  sand  and  playing  with  the  gaunt 
shadows  of  the  palm-trees,  distorting  them  into 
queer  shapes  and  making  grotesque  patterns  under 
our  feet.  The  breeze,  the  snoring  of  the  waves,  the 
sense  of  freedom  after  the  hot,  reeking  jungle,  re 
freshed  me,  and  I  almost  forgot  the  doom  that 
threatened.  Thirkle  stood  a  minute  and  scanned 
the  channel,  muttering  to  himself. 

"Looks  all  clear,  sir,"  said  Petrak. 

"All  clear,  Reddy.  Push  on,  lad;  the  boats  are 
right  ahead." 

"Here  we  are,  sir,  all  snug,"  called  Petrak,  and 
I  saw  the  indistinct  pile  in  the  shadow  of  the  brush 
which  marked  the  cache  of  boats. 

"No  matches,  Reddy.  Mind  ye  don't  make  a 
flash  or  we'll  have  some  craft  on  the  prowl  along 
here.  We  can't  take  any  chances." 

"Cut  me  loose  from  this  cussed  line,  Thirkle. 
We  can  take  a  turn  on  a  tree  and  hold  the  writin' 
chap  until  we  have  need  for  him." 

Thirkle  cut  him  free  from  me,  and  they  bound 
me  to  a  broken  palm-stump.  I  pleaded  to  be  put 
on  the  ground,  complaining  about  my  leg,  and  Petrak 
finally  wrapped  the  rope  about  my  legs  and  threw 
me  to  the  ground,  more  to  keep  me  quiet  than  to 
ease  my  supposed  suffering.  They  left  me  laying 
helpless  in  a  thicket  of  young  bamboo  shoots,  with 
my  head  and  shoulders  in  the  sand.  I  managed 
to  wriggle  on  my  side  so  that  I  had  view  of 


THE  LAST  289 

the  boats,  and,  what  was  better,  I  got  my  teeth 
into  the  rope  on  my  hands  and  began  gnawing  it 
desperately. 

"Which  boat  has  the  stores,  Reddy?  I'm  twisted 
all  around." 

"The  nighest,  Thirkle.  The  nighest  has  the 
stores,  and  the  other  the  tackle." 

"You  go  round  the  other  side  for  the  block,  Reddy. 
We  better  take  the  spare  boat  with  us  and  set  it 
adrift  after  we  clear  the  channel,  or  load  it  with 
stones  and  let  it  go  down  after  we  are  clear  of  the 
island.  Then  we'll  get  the  wind  and  slip  down  the 
coast  to  the  first  native  town.  That's  better  than 
waiting  to  be  picked  up  and  having  to  answer  ques 
tions  that  wouldn't  carry  by.  No  Manila-bound 
boat  for  us,  to  land  about  the  time  the  Kut  Sang  was 
reported  overdue." 

"Right  ye  are,  Thirkle,"  said  Petrak,  stumbling 
about  in  the  dark.  "It's  black  as  a  Kroo  boy 
in  here,"  and  presently  he  began  to  drag  the  block 
through  the  dead  leaves  and  brambles. 

"No  need  for  the  tackle,  sir,  once  we  get  clear  of 
the  sand,  in  my  mind.  We  can  skid  'em  with  oars, 
and  lighten  the  stowed  one  —  hey,  Thirkle?  I  ain't 
for  leavin'  no  marks  hereabouts,  and  we  can  drag 
some  bushes  over  the  wake  we  leave  in  the  sand? 
so " 

"We'll  see  about  that  when  we  get  clear,"  said 
Thirkle  gruffly.  "Hold  yer  lip  now." 


290          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

Thirkle  was  busy  pulling  the  palm-leaves  from  the 
boats  and  clearing  the  litter  with  which  they  had 
covered  their  cache.  I  could  hear  him  tugging  at  the 
sail  which  they  had  spread  over  the  outer  boat.  The 
moonlight  was  getting  brighter,  and  more  stars  were 
coming  out,  and  the  jungle  was  beginning  to  awaken. 
A  lizard  set  up  a  monotonous  croak  in  the  branches 
overhead,  and  insects  and  unseen  things  began  to 
Btir  in  the  foliage. 

"Blast  this  mess  of  halyards  and  gear  Bucky 
strewed  alongside  — 

I  heard  Thirkle  draw  his  breatn  sharply  as  he  left 
the  sentence  unfinished.  He  drew  away  from  the 
boat  in  a  quick,  involuntary  movement,  and  I  man 
aged  to  twist  my  neck  so  that  I  could  observe  him. 
He  stood  motionless  for  a  minute,  his  figure  a  queer 
fretwork  of  light  and  shadow  from  the  creepers 
and  palms. 

"Reddy!"  he  called  cautiously.  "Oh,  Petrak!" 
Something  in  his  tones  —  a  suggestion  of  suspicion 
that  everything  was  not  right  —  thrilled  me. 
Petrak  did  not  hear  him  as  he  was  fumbling  with 
the  block  in  the  sand  and  muttered  about  a 
jammed  rope. 

"Petrak!" 

"Aye,"  said  Petrak.  "I'll  give  ye  a  hand  next 
minute,  sir." 

"Come  here,"  commanded  Thirkle  with  a  hand 
on  a  pistol. 


THE  LAST  291 

"What's  up?"  demanded  Petrak,  getting  to  his 
feet.  "Can't  ye  start  it  —  what's  wrong,  Thirkle?" 

"Come  up  here  and  haul  out  some  of  the  gear 
in  this  boat  —  move  navy  style,  lad  —  we  can't 
be  wasting  the  whole  night!  Reach  in  there  and 
clear  that  mess  of  halyard." 

But  Petrak  did  not  move.  He  knew  something 
was  wrong;  but  whether  it  was  Thirkle  he  feared, 
or  what  Thirkle  seemed  afraid  of,  I  did  not  know. 
I  thought  he  suspected  treachery. 

"What's  wrong,  Thirkle?"  he  demanded. 

"Come  on  up  here,  can't  ye?" 

"What  ye  want,  Thirkle?  No  funny  business 
for  me.  Speak  out  what  ye  want.  Ye  ain't  goin' 
to  do  me  dirt,  be  ye,  Thirkle  —  not  Reddy?" 

He  was  whining  now,  and  he  was  in  terror  of 
Thirkle. 

"Oh,  shut  up!"  growled  Thirkle.  "It's  nothing, 
but  it  give  me  a  turn." 

"  What  was  it,  Thirkle  ?     What  frightened  ye  ? " 

"I  thought  I  put  my  hand  into  a  mess  of  hair 
and " 

"Oh,  ho!"  laughed  Petrak.  "That's  a  ball  of 
spun  yarn  Bucky  left.  It's  naught  but  spun  yarn, 
Thirkle.  I  minded  it  myself,"  and  Petrak  turned 
to  the  block  again. 

Thirkle  moved  toward  the  boat,  saying  some 
thing  about  how  he  was  getting  old  and  nervous, 
and  I  saw  him  bend  over  the  gunwale.  I  watched 


292          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

him  closely,  for  a  hope  had  sprung  up  in  my  withered 
heart  —  a  hope  which  I  hardly  dared  tell  myself 
might  possibly  be  true,  after  the  train  of  disasters 
which  had  overtaken  me  since  I  went  aboard  the 
Kut  Sang. 

I  saw  a  form  spurt  up  out  of  the  boat,  and,  as  it 
arose,  like  the  fountain  that  pops  out  of  the  sea 
after  a  shell  strikes,  there  came  a  heavy  blow  and 
a  deep-throated  grunt,  followed  by  a  hiss  that  was 
merged  with  a  shrill  death-cry. 

"Black  devil!  Black  devil!"  said  Thirkle  in 
a  quiet,  matter-of-fact  way,  and  then  he  began  to  sob 
and  squirm;  but  the  figure  that  had  come  up  like  a 
jack-in-the-box  held  him  pinned  across  the  gunwale, 
with  his  shoulders  and  arms  inside  the  boat,  and  his 
legs  writhing  and  thrashing  in  the  dead  palm-leaves. 

"  What's  wrong,  Thirkle  ?  What's  wrong ? "  wailed 
Petrak. 

He  stood  a  second  waiting  for  an  answer,  and 
then  he  started  for  the  boat,  but  stopped  at  the 
edge  of  the  shadows. 

"What's  wrong,  Thirkle?  Sing  out,  can't  ye? 
What's  gone  amiss?" 

Thirkle's  legs  were  quiet  now,  but  I  could  hear  his 
heavy  breathing,  and  it  reminded  me  of  the  steam 
exhaust  from  an  ice-factory. 

In  spite  of  the  mystery  about  me,  I  set  my  brain 
to  work  trying  to  remember  what  particular  ice- 
factory  sounded  just  like  Thirkle's  breathing. 


THE  LAST  293 

"I'll  hold  him,  Rajah,"  said  Captain  Riggs. 
'Go  get  the  other,"  and  the  figure  of  the  Malay  boy 
sprang  from  the  boat  and  leaped  toward  Petrak. 
The  little  red-headed  man  gave  an  incoherent  gurgle, 
and  he  took  to  his  heels  down  the  beach.  Rajah  let 
him  go,  and  ran  to  me,  where  I  was  tossing  about 
like  a  dying  fish.  He  hissed  to  me  and  swiftly  cut 
me  free,  and  I  rushed  to  the  boats,  with  a  tangle 
of  rope  still  clinging  to  my  feet. 

"Captain  Riggs,"  I  cried,  "it  is  I,  Trenholm!" 
and  he  lifted  his  hand  from  the  shoulder  of  the  dying 
Thirkle  and  took  mine. 

"All's  well,"  he  said  calmly.  "Glad  to  see  ye 
alive,  Mr.  Trenholm.  I  gave  ye  up,  and  we  came 
back  here  and  went  to  sleep  in  the  boat,  but 
Rajah  was  on  watch  when  he  heard  ye  com 
ing  back,  and  I  guess  he's  made  an  end  of  this 
beauty.  Here,  strike  a  match  and  let's  look  at 
him." 

I  held  the  flame  down  to  Thirkle's  face,  and  his 
clenched  teeth  grinned  at  me  through  snarling,  open 
lips,  but  his  eyes  were  glazed  with  death.  We 
stripped  him  of  his  arms  and  lay  him  down  in  the 
palm-leaves,  quite  dead. 

"Did  that  other  rascal  get  away?"  asked  Riggs. 
"We'll  have  to  wait  a  bit  and  see  if  we  can't  find 
him.  But  probably  we  better  get  to  sea.  Ye 
know  where  ye  left  the  plugs  and  oars?  That  little 
red-headed  chap  can't  do  much  harm,  and  if  he  gets 


294          THE  DEVIL'S  ADMIRAL 

away  we'll  find  him  some  day.  We'll  be  back  here 
in  the  shake  of  a  lamb's  tail,  anyhow." 

We  rigged  the  tackle  and  hauled  the  boat  into  the 
sand  with  little  trouble,  and,  while  Rajah  held  her 
on  an  even  keel,  we  tugged  at  the  painter  and  soon 
had  the  water  lapping  at  her  bows.  The  stock  o{ 
provisions  and  water  was  restowed,  and  then  we 
smashed  the  extra  boat  and  took  the  oars.  We 
covered  Thirkle  with  sand,  but  Riggs  said  he  would 
carry  him  back  to  Manila  with  the  gold. 

Rajah  was  in  the  boat,  and  we  were  prying  it  off 
the  shingle  and  waiting  for  a  favouring  wave  when 
we  were  startled  with  a  hail  from  the  jungle. 

"Cap'n  Riggs!     Oh,  Cap'n  Riggs!" 

"Who's  there?"  I  shouted,  although  I  knew. 

"Petrak  —  don't  leave  me  here,  cap'n!  Take 
me  away  from  this  cussed  place  —  please,  sir,  please. 
I'll  be  good,  only  don't  leave  me  on  the  beach  — 
I'll  die  afore  mornin',  sir." 

We  took  him.  He  came  creeping  out  of  the 
jungle,  sniffling  and  wailing,  and  begging  not  to 
be  hanged,  and  saying  Thirkle  and  the  others 
had  done  it  all.  We  bundled  him  into  the  bows, 
telling  him  he  was  a  dead  man  if  he  made  a  sus 
picious  move;  but  the  little  cur  never  had  enough 
courage  to  fight  unless  he  could  stab  a  man  in  the 
back. 

Once  in  the  channel  we  filled  away  to  the  south, 
scooting  past  the  black  upper-works  of  the  Kut 


THE  LAST  295 

Sang,  as  we  caught  a  stiff  breeze  from  the  north. 
Then  Captain  Riggs  made  me  sleep. 

It  was  long  after  daylight  when  the  captain  shook 
me,  and  right  over  us  was  a  square-rigged  ship. 
She  was  hanging  in  stays,  and  a  boat  was  coming  tc 
us  from  her  when  I  looked  over  the  gunwale.  She 
was  an  oil-carrier  from  Kobe  to  Manila. 

"Four  men  out  of  the  Kut  Sang,  ashore  on  a  reef," 
said  Captain  Riggs,  as  we  went  over  her  side.  "You 
may  put  the  red-headed  gentleman  in  irons,  if  you 
please,  sir.  Thank  you." 

And  so  we  went  back  to  Manila,  where  Petrak 
was  hanged,  and  the  only  men  who  ever  sailed  with 
the  Devil's  Admiral  and  lived  to  tell  of  it  were  Captain 
Riggs,  and  Rajah,  and  myself,  and  the  story  was  not 
written  until  after  Captain  Riggs  had  fallen  asleep 
under  the  poplars  of  his  Maine  home  and  forgot 
to  awaken.  As  I  write  the  last  of  the  tale,  the  wind 
howls  in  the  chimney,  and  the  fleecy  fog  is  coming 
over  Russian  Hill  from  the  Pacific,  and  hiding  the 
ships  in  San  Francisco  Bay,  and  the  last  sheets  from 
my  pen  are  gathered  up  by  Rajah,  wearing  in  his 
girdle  the  kris  that  killed  Thirkle. 

THE  END 


A     000110749 


